The Gate Keepers
by CoffeeCup 2013
Summary: The assassin Riandr, her brother Fil and their new friends Myllian and Drenn... battle gods, dragons and prejudice to save a land that refers to them as 'Milk Drinkers'. (Please be advised this is a complete novel. I will post chapters daily. All characters aside from Riandr, Fil, Myllian and Drenn are property of Bethesda. I have, however, used them to service my own needs.)
1. Chapter 1

Introduction

The fire crackled noisily as T'chall stirred the embers. He stared at the bubbling pot suspended above the flames, his belly eagerly anticipating the coming meal. The smell of the venison stew was strong and filled his senses, but years of training allowed him to also note most everything else that existed around him. Though the night was dark, and the campfire his only source of light, he could see his partner, Riandr sitting motionless next to him, her eyes never leaving the flames. The mage Fil sat across the fire from them, rummaging noisily through his sack. T'chall could sense the mage's frustration and growing unease. Myllian, a warrior of some renown, sat slightly away from the fire, silent in the dark but for the sound the whetstone made as she ran it across the blade of her impressive Dwarven axe. The sound was at once musical and invigorating. The smell of sharpened steel caused T'chall's blood to heat. Was there anything more stimulating than a well honed blade? The silent thrust? Watching a mark's blood spill from his body in a warm crimson stream? T'chall poked at the fire again, trying to control his growing bloodlust. Tonight there would be a kill and T'chall would gain the Nightmother's favor.

Riandr held her breath for a moment, so slight a change that neither of their companions noticed, but T'chall knew what it meant. Their mark drew near. He searched the camp for movement while casually stirring the fire. He could sense nothing. However he knew well enough not to doubt Riandr's senses. She had an uncanny ability to sense a mark almost before they had become a target. He continued to poke at the fire, angry with himself for his lingering concern. The scene he had created was perfect. Unassuming travelers, sharing a repast on a warm summer evening, it was flawless. Still, this mark had somehow detected and killed three of their finest assassins. No meager feat. And though his heart thrilled at his fellow assassin's journey into the arms of Sithis, he could not help but wonder if they had been ready for that glory.

Perhaps it was the addition of the mage and warrior that bothered him. They were Riandr's idea. He couldn't argue with her logic. As the mark had so easily seen through the first three single assassins, perhaps a group of travelers, treasure seekers, readying to plunder a nearby tomb would allay suspicion. An offer of a warm meal, a safe bedroll, might be just what was needed to lull the mark into letting his guard down. That moment, that fraction of a second was all T'chall would need.

A quiet rustling in the woods to his right caught his attention; his response was that of inquisitive though cautious traveler, his tone pure Argonian charm. "Hello? Someone there?"

He could sense the others turn in the direction of the noise, and the halting of Myllian's whetstone. It took a moment before someone stepped into view. It was a woman, she stood no taller than his shoulders, her hair was golden and glowed in the fire light. She was dressed in the light blue raiment's of a healer and she carried an intricately carved staff that held a clear stone at its apex.

When she spoke her voice reminded him of warm honey. "Hello. I hope I am not disturbing you?"

It took all of T'chall's training to stem his excitement. This girl was nothing, a slip of a thing! He could fulfill this contract and return to the Sanctuary by morning and this contract, this kill, would cement his authority in the Brotherhood. He might even bring about the return of order to the Dark Brotherhood. Perhaps the Nightmother would find him worthy, would speak to him and make him Listener. The first Listener in a decade! His hunger for the mark was so strong he tightened his grip on the firepoker until a sharp metal braid dug into his thick, scaled skin, causing blood to drip from his hand. It sizzled as it hit the stones surrounding the fire. He took a deep breath, the sharp pain in his hand calming him. The others glanced at him; their expressions vacant, waiting. This was his mark, so they waited for him to respond.

"Disturbing us? Of course not." T'chall's grin was welcoming. As an Argonian, a man of green scaled skin, yellow eyes and large razor sharp teeth set in an elongated snout, he had quickly learned to use his voice to convey warmth and sincerity. It helped dispel the fear the other races often exhibited at the sight of an Argonian's visage. At the moment, he oozed charmed. "Please join us! We have plenty of room by the fire, the stew is ready. We'd love some company. I'm afraid we've grown quite tired of each other. A fresh face would be welcome indeed."

"You are too kind." The young woman stepped closer to the fire. "We have been traveling a long time. A bowl of stew and a lively conversation would be a welcome respite."

For the first time since he and Riandr had left the Sanctuary T'chall felt the cold hand of doubt touch his heart. "We?"

The girl favored him with a breathtaking smile. "Oh yes. My traveling companion…" she glanced behind her and motioned toward the darkness. "Camber. Come out. We're here."

A young man of about eight years stepped from the darkness into the firelight. He and the woman had the same golden hair and bright blue eyes, but where she was pale, his skin held a dark tinge, almost as if he had spent his life in the wild sunlit land of Elsweyr.

The young woman placed her hand on top of the boy's head, ruffling his hair, grinning at him. She glanced back at the campfire, "This is my son, Camber. I am Gian."

The mage stood and bowed his head. "Fil, my lady. A mage of some distinction, at your service."

"Myllian," the warrior nodded to the newcomer and her son. "Warrior and Champion of Talos."

Gian nodded her head in their direction. "Honored to meet you both, fellow travelers."

T'chall stood motionless for a moment. The contract was for one mark. One mark to arrive at this destination, at this hour. Yet two stood before him. Had something happened during the sacrament? Was his information about the mark, false? T'chall quickly squelched his blasphemous thoughts. All was as it should be; all was as it was meant to be. 'In any case,' he thought, 'two are as easy to kill as one.' He bowed his head toward the woman and her son. "I am, T'chall. Adventurer and occasional bard. At your service, my lady."

Riandr moved for the first time that evening, slowly turning her head toward the newcomers, she stared at the young man before them. "Riandr," was all she said.

The boy returned her gaze, his eyes absorbing every inch of her. His response was simple, "Camber." Riandr gave the briefest of nods, and then returned her attention to the fire.

Gian and Camber stepped into the fire's light and gestured to the others to retake their seats. "It is certainly kind of you to share your meal and fire with us. We've been traveling for sometime and not met with another soul! Plenty of saber cats and trolls mind you. But few people." Gian's voice covered them in sweetness and warmth.

T'chall could see Fil beginning to lean toward the young woman like a flower leans into the sun. Stupid man. Bewitching as the wench was she would be dead in a few hours. His plan was simple enough. Offer them a warm meal, safe haven for the night. Kill them in their sleep. Riandr had made the stew with enough sleeping draught that they would rest until Morndas if he let them. Riandr had mixed the antidote to the draught and distributed it to everyone. They had taken it before the pairs arrival, thus the stew would have no affect on them. Riandr was a decent alchemist and a talented enchanter. Her only drawback was this recent penchant towards moody silence. They had worked a hundred jobs together. Protected each other, helped each other rise in the ranks of the Brotherhood. He considered her as close to a friend as he would ever have, considering his vocation.

'Of course,' he had to admit to himself, 'if the contract was right, I would, with some regret, take her life.' He knew this would not make him popular in the Brotherhood, but if it increased his standing with the Nightmother, he would gladly suffer the consequences.

Riandr rose and began to ladle stew for everyone. The sound of Gian's gentle babble filled the night air. As he took the bowl from Riandr and began to dig in, he allowed the woman's voice to wash over him. After all, she would be dead soon, he might as well let her enjoy her final hours.

The venison stew was so tasty T'chall was tempted to lick the bottom of his bowl. 'Must be a product of my hunger,' he thought, 'for both the stew and the kill.' He could feel his blood rushing as the minutes ticked by. Soon they would feel sleepy; want to curl up on their bedrolls. Two quick knife thrusts as they slept and the contract would be fulfilled and the position of Listener almost guaranteed. He tried not to yawn. The young woman's voice was so soothing, almost hypnotic. He was having trouble making out the words, there was only the calming rhythm working its way into his mind.

Whether it was his training or a cry from his subconscious he couldn't say, but he began to feel unsettled, almost nervous. His mind was screaming at him to stand, move about, to fight the drowsiness that threatened to overwhelm him and wake up, be ready for the kill. He went to lean forward, place the bowl on the stones at his feet, and realized with a blinding suddenness that he could not move. He felt the bowl drop from his stiffened fingers and heard it land with a clatter against the stones. Though he could not move his head, or adjust his gaze, he could see Riandr reach down, pick up the bowl, and place it on the fire. She turned to him with an expression on her face he could not quite place. He tried again to move, to stand and found he could not. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he focus? Was it the stew? Had his antidote failed him? 'Damn it!' his thoughts whirled around in his head like a swarm of insects. He had to let Riandr know, had to tell her he needed more antidote. He tried to speak, but could not make a sound. Tried to gesture, nod, blink, anything to get her attention. Not a muscle responded. It was as if he were made of stone.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Riandr glance at the boy. The boy nodded and then Riandr turned towards him. He could tell the woman had stopped speaking; the absence of her voice was like a splash of ice cold water in his face. Though he could not move his eyes to glance around him, the familiar crawling sensation on his skin clearly told him all eyes were fixed on him.

Riandr moved to stand directly in front of him, her face lowered, her assassin's hood hiding her expression. "I know you can hear me, T'chall. It has been good to kill beside you, brother. May you walk in shadow with Sithis."

T'chall could not move, could not cry out, but he felt the blade as it slide between his ribs. Felt it as it struck his heart, tearing the flesh and muscle, allowing the crimson river to flow. At that moment, when he could feel his life's blood rushing like a treacherous army from his body, leaving him cold and lifeless, Riandr moved her gaze from the ground to his and he saw it. That expression. _That_ look. The look he had given hundreds of victims. A combination of sadness, accusation and victory. The look he had never expected to see on his fellow assassin's face. As his body shut down, and his life ended he had one final thought, 'I am not ready…'


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

Riandr forced her gaze to stay on the flames, letting the campfire fill her senses. Unlike T'chall who was using every nuance of his training, every instinct he possessed to ensure the scene he had set was perfect, she knew the evening's outcome. She knew how it would end and knowing that, she could not help but wonder if, despite her skill, that knowledge might show on her face.

She forced her body into motionlessness. She was stone, rock, frozen, lifeless. Even so, the ache in her heart would not abate. This evening, this kill, was not one she hungered for. It felt wrong, offensive, even more so than the other three. She knew in her heart that it was necessary, that it was demanded of her. But still it ate away at her. Why was this necessary? Why would the Nightmother demand this of her? How did this glorify her name?

Her thoughts raced back to a few short months ago, when the Nightmother had first contacted her. That alone had been a singularly extraordinary experience. She did not hold the position of Listener, had no real value other than being a small part of what was left of the Dark Brotherhood. She had come to accept that their cell had no real structure. Much like the assassin's guild of Morrowind, the Morag Tong, the Brotherhood's foundation had been lost decades before. To then have the Nightmother speak directly to her? Her joy had been overwhelming! But what she had asked of Riandr had shaken her to the core.

She was to eliminate every member of the Dark Brotherhood.

Riandr forced herself not to shiver at the memory. The men and women of the Brotherhood were her family, her friends. They understood who she was, why she did what she did and how glorious a vocation it was. Her mind had rebelled at the idea of destroying what she had come to love, but the Nightmother had demanded it of her. If her vocation, if her life were to have any meaning, she had to follow the Nightmother's demands, she had no choice.

It had been simple enough. She was trusted, loved. The first three fell quietly, never knowing she had betrayed them. Mora, the only other female in their family, had been thrilled to see her at the inn where she had planned to assassinate the mark. Riandr had offered her assistance, told Mora she would 'have her back' and then promptly stabbed her there. Tyrian had been stupidly optimistic, even suggesting they bed after the kill, work off the rush. She had chosen to slit his throat, he talked too much anyway. Korrn was a little more difficult. He did not trust any member of the Guild and was affronted at her offer of assistance. He did not however, suspect she had reset the trap he had laid for the mark to backfire and kill him instead. She had taken no pleasure in that kill; there was no thrust of steel, no smell of blood, no rush of fulfillment. However dead was dead and the Nightmother had been pleased.

Assassinating T'chall however, would be considerably more complicated. He had been her partner for countless jobs and was incredibly gifted at reading people, assessing their motives, their thoughts, often before or even if they did not know them themselves. It had been a boon on many contracts. However that gift would make it easy for him to sense something was amiss with her. So she had cloaked herself in constant moodiness and sullen silences. She made these moments erratic, impulsive. Used every once of training she had to encourage him to believe she was just being 'female'. It had worked, with a surprising ease that made Riandr a little sad. 'Are we all so eager to eat whatever we are fed?' she wondered for the hundredth time.

In the past they had always worked as a pair. One assassin, one distraction, switching back and forth as the occasion demanded. This time she had had to be creative and sell him on the idea of a group. It had not been difficult. He had, of course, trusted her judgment. What he was unaware of was that this group of travelers had been requested by the client and was there to assist in the next phase of the client's endeavors. Minus T'chall of course.

The client had not specified who she needed to hire, just what. A warrior of exceptional skill and a mage of similar rank. The mage had been easy enough. Unbeknown to T'chall, or anyone aside from herself and the mage, was that the mage, Fil, was her brother. He had never agreed with her vocation. It's wasn't that he had a problem with killing, hardly; it was that he wanted to do it for profit, not for the glory of Sithis. As Riandr stared at the flames she had to wonder if that mattered. After all, the dead still raced headlong into his arms; did it matter to the Dark Father if they were sent there in his name? Or just that they were sent?

The warrior had been harder to find. She had known whom she wanted, had seen Myllian's skill on more than one occasion, however locating her had been difficult. Traveling warriors for hire were never in one place long and with Myllian there was the added issue of her devotion to Talos. Worshiping the man/god was punishable by death. That made Myllian a bit of a liability as she was eager to announce her continued devotion at any given opportunity.

They would also shortly be entering the tomb of Xarthias. A sepulcher that their client needed to raid and was reported to be filled with all manner of bandits, traps and of course undead. These creatures concerned Riandr, but not overly so. It was the Gaunerians that raised the hair on the back of her neck. Priests in life, they had chosen not to travel to the waiting arms of Sithis, but had performed the sacrament that allowed them to retain their intellect and abilities. Leaving them with a form of non-life, existing, but not existing. Knowing they were dead and yet knowing they could never die. Always serving in death as they had in life, protecting whatever it was the client was after. Riandr thought there could be no better description of eternal torment.

The fire crackled and she watched the sparks flare, continuing to ignore T'chall's anxious anticipation. She had to admit that it was unsettling to not know what the client searched for. To know only that the Nightmother wanted her to use the client's need in concert with her own and dispatch her brothers and sister of the Brotherhood to the Dark Father. Eliminating her cell was almost complete. Only T'chall and Z'nder were left.

Without warning she sensed the client's approach. She held her breath for only a moment, but T'chall was instantly aware. She wanted to grin, chuckled even. For though he could sense her awareness of the mark, he himself could not yet sense his prey.

She almost cringed as T'chall spoke. "Hello? Someone there?"

Without taking her eyes from the flames she felt everyone turn in the direction of the sound, Myllian's hand halted the constant sharpening of her blade.

The voice behind her was warm and sweet. A perfect act of innocence and helplessness. "Hello. I hope I am not disturbing you?"

Riandr could feel the blood pounding through T'chall. He took the bait with such ease; he was so impatient for the kill. She knew he had a lust for power. She also knew he believed this contract would bring the Nightmother's favor to him, and give him that power. Riandr froze again, wanting to cry out, 'Don't be a fool, T'chall! Pay attention! Read your prey!' But she stayed silent.

"Disturbing us? Of course not. Please join us! We have plenty of room by the fire, the stew is ready. We'd love some company. I'm afraid we've grown quite tired of each other. A fresh face would be welcome indeed."

"You are too kind." The young woman stepped closer to the fire. "We have been traveling a long time. A bowl of stew and a lively conversation would be a welcome respite."

"We?" Riandr could hear the hesitation in T'chall's voice.

"Oh yes, my traveling companion. Camber, come out. We're here."

She could feel the client approach, sensed his presence. T'chall was so wrapped up in the thrill of an easy kill; he was not reading his prey. The boy was the one to watch, it was the boy who held the power! The girl was simply another required player. A powerful healer, Riandr had hired her weeks ago at the boy's request, to stay with him and travel by his side. T'chall saw none of that. He saw only his chance at real power. For a moment Riandr was disgusted by the Argonian. Though she had used her knowledge of him and his greed to trap him, she was sickened by how easily it worked. He was so distracted by his lust for the position of Listener, he had forgotten that they did what they did to exalt the Dark Father, to honor him! Not for their own power or glorification.

Riandr turned toward the boy, meeting the client face to face for the first time. "Riandr," she said, her tone cold, lifeless. She felt the rising panic, the small voice inside her screamed, 'Pay attention, T'chall! Look at the boy! Can't you see his power? Where is your training?' But he saw nothing, his skills blinded by greed.

"Camber." The boy stared at her and the intensity of his gaze caused her to turn back to the fire, shaken. No mere client. No mere boy. But then what was he? Glaring at the flames, she knew those ruminations must wait. She forced herself to return her attention to the task at hand, the serving of dinner and the murder of her friend.

After passing out heaping bowls of stew, she again stared unmoving into the flames. She allowed the woman's gentle babble and T'chall's obvious impatience and lust to wash over her, the flames distracting her while she counted down the minutes. She hadn't bothered to taint the stew as T'chall had wanted. She had made the draught, but had instead coated the bowl that she then handed to T'chall, knowing the poison would enter his system just as eagerly. She could sense the exact moment it took affect, watched his body become rigid. The bowl dropped from his now stiff fingers, clattering on the stones. She moved then, picking it up and placing it on the flames. There was no need to allow anyone else to eat from that wooden bowl and suffer a similar fate.

She glanced at the boy and he nodded. Now that the time had come, she banished regret. This was what she did, who she was. She would send her friend into Sithis' arms with love and devotion. His death would truly honor the Dark Father.

She moved to stand directly in front of T'chall, her face lowered, her hood hiding her expression. "I know you can hear me, T'chall. It has been good to kill beside you, brother. May you walk in shadow with Sithis."

She felt the blade pass between the ribs, tearing into T'chall's heart. Riandr moved her gaze from the ground to his. Their eyes connected and the moment was theirs. This was when two became one, assassin and mark. More intimate than lovers, more spiritual than worship. This was the assassin's calling, reverently sending another's soul to the glory of the Dark Father! This moment, as life left one, taken by another, this was the true bond, the only reality. This moment _was_ the gift.

As the last expression T'chall would ever have froze on his face, Riandr thought sadly, 'They are never ready.'

* * *

The night had passed without further incident. In fact after she had sent T'chall into Sithis' waiting arms, there had been no discussion at all. As if the entire party were aware of what the act had cost her, in respect they kept their silence. The dawn had just started breaking over the tops of the trees when she arose from her place by the fire, heading toward the nearby stream.

Fil followed his sister toward the river. The canopy of leaves above their heads was thinning as autumn's cool nights began their work. The bed of gold and red leaves crunched beneath their feet as they made their way down the slight embankment to the water. He felt the cool morning air fill his lungs and watched his breath make tiny clouds in the air when he exhaled. With a wave of his hand he turned his breath into the form of a bird on the wing and directed it toward his sister. The miniature white bird flew across her vision, startling her, and then circled her head. She held out her hand and the tiny vaporous thing landed in her palm. It sat there, soundlessly chirping at her. Fil regretted being unable to create vocal chords, but there was simply not enough cohesion in a breath of air for that. He watched a small grin play with the corners of her mouth for a moment. Then she gently blew on the tiny bird, dispersing its vaporous form, sending it floating out onto the river, her gaze following it. She took a deep breath and let it out very slowly. He could feel the tension leave her body; the night's events and her sorrow eased from her and seemed to follow the bird's form, drifting away on the rivers current. They sat there in silence for a moment. Then she reached down and splashed cold water onto her face.

Fil had not slept last night, had not let his sister out of his sight. He knew better than the rest what the past few months had cost her and he was not happy about it. She may have found purpose in the Brotherhood, but he saw no sense in it. To murder another because a god commanded him to? Never. When he killed he killed because he had to, or on occasion for personal gain, but never to further a god's ambition. Besides, he pondered yet again the bizarre construct of the Brotherhood, their god Sithis and the Nightmother answered the prayers of mortals yes, but they received gold for their actions. Tidy sums of gold in fact. So how was his murdering for personal gain so different? Riandr was convinced that her actions were somehow nobler because she served a god, but if the gods in question were as greedy as he, where was the nobility? If Riandr only killed those who were truly evil, then perhaps he might give her argument a bit more credence. But aside from her most recent contract, eliminating her fellow Brotherhood members, she had no real knowledge of those she was sent to kill. Good or evil she simply killed them to honor the Dark Father. How did that make her act noble?

He joined her by the stream and splashed cold water on his face. He would not let her see his concern. The two of them had grown up with only each other to depend on. After the murder of their parents they had clung to one another to survive as best they could on the streets of Riften. Their life had been hard, but they could always count on each other, and that had been enough. Until Riandr had begun questioning her skill, until she had begun to doubt the righteousness of thieving and murder for profit. Then the Brotherhood had called on her. Actually he had been a bit surprised it had taken them as long as it did. His sister had a talent for the silent kill. They took her in and gave her life meaning. Through the Dark Brotherhood she had found a purpose for her gift. Fil would never have taken that away from her.

But now it seemed the Nightmother herself chose to rob Riandr of the only place she had ever felt she truly belonged. This ordered destruction of her guild, weighed heavily on her shoulders. These people were her friends, her family. She had left behind the Thieves Guild and her brother for them. There was no one else she felt more kinship with. Well, perhaps the Thieves Guild leader. But that love had not survived and had left Riandr, empty. Perhaps that was why she had left him and joined the Brotherhood? Maybe this was all Brynjolf's fault? Fil glanced at his reflection in the still water. When next he saw that damn fool, he would gladly give him a piece of his mind, followed by a bolt of lightening to his chest.

He scrambled up the path after his sister, his mind on the various ways of keeping Brynjolf alive while he tortured him to death. The others had broken camp, so without a word they headed in the direction of Xarthias, leaving T'chall's body under a canvas of autumn leaves.

The stone road was wide, the chiseled stones, after centuries of wear and weather, jutted from the ground at awkward angles. The forest surrounding them was thin, filled with large boulders and bits of fern and brush. The occasional birch tree, its leaves golden in the early morning light, grappled for dominance with the rock and undergrowth.

Though they had not camped far from the tomb, the way there was littered with bandits. No one was surprised by this. Xarthias' legend suggested enormous wealth was hidden within and though only the bravest of these bandits would risk entering the tomb, the cowardly certainly had enough audacity to ambush any adventurers who might be traveling to or from Xarthias and relieve them of their money, treasure and equipment. Riandr and Fil made short work of them. Myllian kept a vigilant eye on Gian and the boy, but Riandr could sense her growing frustration at her duty. Babysitting, as Myllian had so delicately put it, was not what she had been hired for.

Gian hummed a jaunty tune for the short trip and although Riandr found it annoying she had to admit it seemed to fill her mind until she was also humming along. When she glanced at Fil he quickly looked away, hiding his expression. She made a mental note to have a long talk with her brother as soon as possible. His constant amusement at her expense was growing annoying.

As they rounded a bend in the road, they found themselves at the top of a tremendous staircase that descended into a small grassy courtyard. On the other side of the courtyard loomed Xarthias, its massive size overwhelming. The great stone structure rose in an arch, and at its peak the stone seemed to wrap around itself, forming the face of a giant bird. The open courtyard was empty but for the autumn wind that played with the fallen leaves, pulling them aloft into tight columns of golden red fire. Riandr could just make out a campfire at the opening of the tomb. She gestured toward the entrance and Fil nodded. Myllian pushed her way past Gian and the boy.

"Mage, I believe it's my turn." She glared at Fil and Riandr.

Riandr braced herself for a fight and gestured toward Fil. "The mage will handle this. Don't worry," she raised her hand to halt the Redguard's tirade, "there will be plenty of foes inside for you to destroy, I promise."

The warrior looked as if to protest, but Fil had already worked his way down the stairs and into the courtyard, flames sprouting from both hands. Riandr reached into a pocket of her armor, grabbing a few of her small throwing knives in case Fil missed a straggler or two. She turned at the distinct sound of a bow being drawn. Myllian stood next to her, arrow notched, breath stilled. Riandr chided herself. The Dwarven axe was so impressive; she had forgotten that the warrior was a decent archer as well. They waited together, silent, as Fil drew abreast of the campfire.

A loud explosion at the entrance of the tomb surprised her, but then Fil had never had her talent for stealth. A big part of the reason the Thieves Guild had not suited him. Racing down the stairs, she hurried across the open courtyard, knives at the ready. She heard the distinct sound of arrows whizzing over her head and was not surprised to see two different bodies fall from the parapet above her. Putting her trust in the warrior she didn't bother to check if the path above her was clear, she raced instead to her brother's side. She found him inside the open entrance, digging through a knapsack for swag. Her sigh of annoyance could have been heard in Cyrodiil.

"Must you?" Riandr asked.

"What?" Fil shrugged, not glancing up from his looting.

Riandr glanced at the three dead bodies littering the entrance to the tomb. Their brown leather armor a surprising sight. "Imperial soldiers?"

Fil nodded. "Yeah. Imagine that."

"But why?" She glanced around the entrance, hoping to find some clue as to why Imperials might be interested in a Nordic ruin.

"Don't know. But I imagine…" he paused as he pulled a carefully folded missive from the knapsack, "this might give us a clue."

Riandr grabbed the letter from his hand, tearing it open. Its message was no less confusing to her then the soldier's presence. Fil stood, peering over her shoulder as he read the missive.

"_Legate Leonitis_," Fil read aloud, "_Please handle this matter with the utmost discretion. We are aware that the Thalmor greatly desire these items. Therefore it is in the Empire's interest to secure them first. Be efficient. Be unseen. Return as quickly as possible. Time is running out. M._" Fil rolled his eyes. "M? Time is running out? What does that mean?"

Riandr looked at her brother, then at the dead legionnaires. She folded the note and then shoved it into her brother's satchel, glancing at the others as they made their way down the staircase. "I do not know. However, we will wait to discuss it."

Fil recognized the expression on her face and nodded. She smelled something, something that made her nose itch. For now, there was no note. He quickly returned his attention to the soldiers, checking their pockets for additional loot.

"Imperial soldiers!" Gian's voice echoed in the small entrance.

"So it would seem." Riandr motioned to the lifeless men. "Were you expecting Imperials?" Her question was directed at the boy.

Camber glanced at the bodies, then at her. His voice when he spoke was young, in keeping with his youthful appearance. But Riandr could hear the latent power like a base drum beating, charging his words with authority. "I knew there would be others searching. I told you as much. Hence the need for our… party." He drew the term out as if perhaps he wasn't quite sure what to call their group.

Riandr watched him for a moment, but gave up in frustration. The boy showed no signs of emotion, nor change of expression. All she could read from him was power. And yet so far for all the power he exuded, he had performed no act of either strength or stealth or healing. She turned away from him before he had a chance to sense her frustration and moved toward the tomb's entrance. The door was made of hardened ebony, black as night and impenetrable by sword or hammer. The beautiful metal made it impossible to bash in, but the lock, the lock was not constructed of the same metal and therefore not impossible to pick. She reached into the hidden fold of her armor and removed a lockpick and her slim tension wrench. Placing her ear upon the lock she listened to the gentle clink of metal against metal as they worked their way inside.

"Sing to me darling," she spoke softly, lovingly to it, "tell me your secrets." She moved the tools slowly back and forth, feeling the resistance, nudging the wrench ever so slightly holding the tension on the cylinder, while guiding her pick to lift each bolt, until finally feeling the lock's soft spot. The click of the bolts as they fell into place sent a rush of pleasure through her. There was nothing like the thrill of picking a lock.

Pulling the tools from the keyhole she pushed gently against the door. It swung open revealing another smaller entrance way, with a wooden door, similar to the ebony one, across the small room.

Riandr glanced at the band, "Ready?"

They nodded, falling into step behind her. Fil moved to her side, his scavenging completed. "Think there might be more soldiers ahead?" He gestured toward the bedrolls in the inner chamber.

Riandr shrugged. "I do not know," she glanced at the bedrolls and the small tents in the inner room, "but from the evidence I imagine we will find some resistance."

"Good. It will give Myllian something to crush," Fil chuckled.

Riandr ran her fingers along the doors edges, its hinges, its base, checking for traps. Finding none, she placed her ear upon the wooden door and hearing no movement she gently pushed it open. It revealed a small entry chamber, circular with a stone table in the center of the room. Deep grooved carvings covered the floor while the table was covered with linen wrapping and a few curved blades that Riandr chose not to examine too closely. Fil covered the room, finding nothing but empty urns lining the walls as well as a bookcase with bowls of what looked like bone meal and salts. He lifted a linen wrap from the floor.

"Undead?"

Riandr nodded her agreement.

"Lovely." He dropped the wrap in disgust.

"Undead?" Gian shivered. "I hate them."

Riandr ignored the comment and crossed the room, stopping at the edge of the arched doorway leading down a corridor. She waited until Fil joined her and then moved slowly into the passage. It was well lit; lined with delicately carved braziers filled with fire. Riandr did not find the light comforting. She preferred the darkness, where she could move undetected by her prey. The stone corridor wound to the left and then to the right, its aimless meandering unnerving. They came across two dead bandits and a couple of draugr who lay motionless on the floor.

"Dead again," Fil mused, as he quickly checked the draugr's bodies and the bandit's pockets.

After what seemed an age they came upon a stone staircase. The stairs led down to a large opening where Riandr could hear a mixture of voices raised in conversation. She gestured to the others to stay put as she moved silently down the steps to gauge what they were up against. The room was roughly oval in shape, with a large fire pit against the northern wall. An immense dinning table filled the center of the room. There were at least two dozen Imperials soldiers and bandits filling the hall. They sat around the table, eating and drinking, others milled about the room in conversation. There appeared to be a practice area along the opposite wall, where a few honed their archery and sword skills.

Riandr paused for a moment, the sight of Imperial soldiers and bandits supping together and not slitting each other's throats giving her pause. What in the name of Sithis was the boy and the Empire after that would bring these two enemies together?

She pushed that question to the back of her mind, recognizing that if all went well, that issue would soon be answered. Instead she forced herself to focus on the large wooden door across the room from where she hid. As the only visible egress she knew it must be the way deeper into the tomb. 'Wonderful, we need only make our way through two dozen trained soldiers and vicious bandits to get there!'

Riandr took in the room with a sinking heart. This was a tactical nightmare. She, Fil and Myllian could handle most of the men, but they would eventually be overpowered by the sheer number of enemies. What they needed was a distraction. A big one! She retraced her steps to the others, her face grim as she explained the situation.

"What's your plan then?" Fil asked.

Riandr thought for a moment.

The Redguard whispered, "I could race in, take out a dozen or so for you, then while they were distracted you could make your way to the door!"

Riandr turned to the warrior, surprised. "That's suicide, not combat!"

Myllian glanced at the others and then softened her grip on her axe, dropping her gaze to the floor. "I suppose. I just thought…"

Fil placed his hand on the woman's arm, grinning wickedly. "How about we save the suicide rush for another time. It was a nice thought though, really." Myllian stared at the mage, not certain how to take his sarcasm. His grin was teasing and with a sigh, she relaxed. "Besides," he continued, "I have another idea."

Curious, Riandr waited while he searched through his satchel. It took only a moment before he pulled a large scroll from its interior, the parchment pulsing with a dull red light. "Do you remember the Haafingar debacle? The one with the Forsworn and that damn Hagraven?"

Riandr nodded.

"Well I decided then that I needed to have a spell on hand that would allow me an opportunity to escape if I ever found myself in that sort of … situation, again."

"You mean a situation where you rush in without thinking and find yourself hopelessly outnumbered and overwhelmed?"

"Thank you so much for the flattering account." Fil controlled his urge to glare at his sister. "But… yes. In any case this," he held up the scroll for emphasis, "is just that sort of spell."

Riandr growled softly. "And what will this spell do?"

"You're going to have yourself one incredible distraction." Fil grinned wickedly.

Riandr nodded, not hesitating to believe in her brother. "Well done, mage. Myllian, I will count on you to move the boy and Gian safely across the room to the door opposite. Fil and I will divert their attention for as long as it takes."

"But…" the Redguard started to growl.

"I guarantee you there will be men for you to slaughter, warrior! There are always those who will back away from the distraction. Cowards and fools."

Myllian shrugged. "A crushed skull is a crushed skull."

Fil chuckled. "I like this woman's enthusiasm."

They worked their way quietly to the opening. Gian held the boy's hand while Myllian stood axe ready to rush forward and clear them a path to the door.

Riandr motioned to Fil and he began to read aloud the words on the scroll. Fil felt the waves of magicka begin to gather, to flow through him and he could barely control his excitement. The power of this particular scroll would be unlike anything his companions had ever seen. In the creation of this spell he had imbued the runes themselves with a portion of his magicka, a portion of himself. It had taken him quite some time to create it, collapsing between runes, resting for days, building his strength back up to write another. It would, if he had been correct in his creation, open a doorway to Oblivion, drawing to him a few of the land's denizens. He would not have control over them, like a familiar. These would be raw, untamed creatures from the Void. They would fight any Man or Mer or creature they saw, even himself if he moved into the line of fire.

The parchment began to glow, reddish flames bursting from its edges. Each word he spoke drained him of a portion of his magicka, but because he had created each rune with its own power the drain was not enough to destroy him. The flames began to build red and black, burning into his mind and body until he spoke the final word and cast the spell across the room, onto the northern wall, away from their band and the door leading deeper into the tomb.

With a crash like thunder and a burst of flame, an arch appeared on the wall, dark red flame racing along its edges. As one the men turned toward the arch, the sound of steel against steel as they drew their weapons barely discernable over the crackle of flame and burst of sulfurous air from the portal. Then the first of the Oblivion denizens stepped through the opening.

To say the creature was grotesque would be an understatement. It looked much like a Black Marsh lizard, standing erect and had dark brown scaled skin, massive clawed fingers, and a long bone encrusted tail. But unlike the lizards of Black March this creature, towered over the bandits before him. The beast's head was easily the size of a man's body, its teeth certainly no smaller than a man's arm. It lumbered uncertainly through the gate, sniffing the air, its tongue flicking in and out as if tasting the unfamiliar scents. The bandit nearest the creature took a step backward and it turned, orienting on him, his movement all the incentive it needed to focus its thoughts.

It was quickly followed by three flame atronach. These creatures were vaguely female in form and floated a foot or so above the ground. Flames raced up and down their length, the fire of their bodies storing the heat of a forge. As they entered the room and registered the armed men, the atronachs each held out a hand, filling their palms with balls of fire. The bandits and soldiers both appeared frozen in fear, their minds incapable of processing the sudden existence of the Daedra.

Riandr felt the grip of fear herself. Fil had not prepared her for the intensity of his spell. A true door to Oblivion? How could he possibly be capable of this? She shut down the part of her brain that was trying to process the Daedra; it would only get them killed. Instead she grabbed her brother by the arm and dragged him into the room. She glanced back at Myllian and called to her, her tone fierce, "Now, warrior! Get those two to the door!"

Myllian growled softly, as much to sever the affect the arch had on her as to motivate herself to move into the room where the screams of the dying had begun. Tearing her gaze away from the far side of the chamber, she motioned to Gian to grab the boy and follow her. They began to work their way across the room, hugging the wall to the south, trying to focus only on the wooden door ahead of them.

Riandr continued into the chamber, unable to take her gaze off the devastation the Daedra were causing. Two bandits flew through the air, passing a few feet in front of her, to crash against the southern wall with a sickening crunch. The lizard creature had begun decimating the men, snapping heads and limbs, its roar echoing along the cavern's length. The flame atronach filled the room with the smell of burnt flesh.

She glanced to her side and with a start realized Fil was not with her. She looked back to find him crouching on the floor a few feet behind her, his gaze permanently fixated on the Daedra. Racing to his side she grabbed his arm, pulling him up. He barely acknowledged her presence so intent was his focus. Three soldiers raced past them, heading for the doorway they had just vacated. Riandr had her blade drawn in a second but she need not have bothered. The soldiers were so desperate to escape the Daedra that they did not notice her or Fil.

Lifting her brother from the floor she half carried half dragged him across the chamber. She could hear him mumbling, but could not make out what it was he said. Knowing her brother as she did, it gave her the distinct impression that he had not realized the strength of his spell. What she could not tell was if he was amazed at his accomplishment, or horrified.

They had not made it far when there was a loud crash of thunder. As one, Fil and Riandr turned toward the arch; their hearts in their throats, to find two storm atronach enter through the portal. Built of rock and stone, their bodies were held together by coruscating streaks of blue lightning that tripped along their bulks like water. They clapped their rock hands before them and bolts of lightening shot forth, bursting a few of the bandits' apart, tearing flesh from others. The power in their attacks filled the air and began to cause the stone beneath her feet to tremble. Fil motioned toward the ceiling and she gasped as large portions of the rock there began to crumble and fall.

She jerked Fil forward, intent on the reaching the door. Never had a mere fifty feet seemed so far. The rumbling beneath her feet grew stronger as the ceiling above them fractured, portions plunging to the floor, crushing soldier, bandit and Daedra alike. The screams of the men grew louder as now the room itself seemed to attack them.

It felt as if her heart stopped when, with a deafening crack a boulder the size of a mammoth broke from the ceiling, crashing to the floor. It crushed what was left of the dinning table and as if the gods themselves were directing it, began to roll toward them. Fil froze, unable to process the devastation his spell had wrought. Riandr started to panic, not knowing if while dragging Fil, she could reach the doorway in time. She would not abandon her brother but used every ounce of strength she had to move him forward. It crossed her mind for a brief second that she might be able to toss Fil into the passage, saving him. Then suddenly Myllian stood next to her and with a strength Riandr had not guessed the warrior possessed, she grabbed the two of them, lifting them off the floor, and raced toward the doorway. Riandr glanced back toward the boulder, only to find it almost on top of them.

"Myllian!" she screamed.

Without missing a step the Redguard flung them forward, through the open doorway, and then dove the last few feet, sliding through the archway and down a flight of stairs.

The short flight through the air and abrupt landing on the stone floor snapped Fil out of his trance. He twisted from his place on the platform and raised his hands. A burst of blue fire exploded from his palms to crash against the archway forming a wall of pure energy, blocking the entrance. The boulder hit the doorway with a thunderous crash that shook the stones around them. However Fil's wall of energy proved too much for the massive stone and it stopped there, its enormous bulk filling the doorway, effectively blocking their exit.

In contrast to the blood curdling screams of the dinning hall, the corridor was silent except for the sound of their ragged breathing. Fil sat hunched over, Riandr couldn't tell if from fatigue or guilt. She was fairly certain he had had no idea the amount of devastation his spell would cause and she also believed he had never caused death on that scale before.

The boy was the first of them to move, pulling himself from Gian's grasp. He placed a hand on Fil's shoulder, a grin on his face. His youthful voice echoed in the quiet as he said, "Not bad, mage. Not bad at all."

Fil glanced up at the boy and saw the grin. It took a moment for him to register just how much more frightened that grin made him feel. It was as if he looked into the eyes of a god and found no comfort at the sight.

"Let's move." The child's face quickly returned to its stoic expression, as if his moment with Fil had never happened.

Fil let Riandr help him to his feet. He motioned to her that his strength was returning and she turned instead to the Redguard. "Thank you, warrior. That was… impressive."

Myllian's grin was very Nordic in nature and Riandr wondered again at the oddity of a Redguard being a devoted Talos worshiper.

"It's a Redguard trait. For a short time we can reach deep into recesses of stamina. Bursts of strength or a rush of energy."

"I, for one, am grateful for your heritage then, Myllian." Fil bowed low to the warrior. Myllian appeared to blush, though it was hard to tell with her dark Redguard skin and mumbled something about it being her pleasure.

Riandr moved toward the boulder and the blocked arch. "Well, we won't be leaving this way."

"We will have no need, assassin. There is another exit, in the tomb proper." The boy gestured down the corridor.

Riandr and Fil exchanged glances. Their options were limited, and she was still under orders from the Nightmother to help the child find whatever it was he was looking for. Sighing, she moved forward, into the corridor as the others fell into step behind her. There was a nagging dread toying with her heart. Whether it was because of her brother's power or the boy's she was now not quite certain.


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

They continued to work their way deeper into the tomb, Riandr and Fil at the front, Gian and Camber behind, Myllian covering their backs. The corridor continued to descended, crawling deeper and deeper into the earth. It had also begun to pull in on them; the stone's themselves growing darker and more foreboding. The braziers of light were becoming fewer and further apart and Riandr wondered if perhaps the Imperial soldiers had not made it quite this far into the tomb. They were forced to backtrack along a few of the side corridors as they were filled with cave-ins or simply ended in empty rooms. One room they found held clear evidence of a bandit presence, but they had so far found only dead draugr and a few empty chests. Fil had not been pleased.

Riandr's concern about an alternative exit was growing. She had hoped they would have encountered something, a hidden door, a gust of clean fall air, but so far there had been no indication that they would find an escape route. As she crept along in the growing darkness she hoped the boy was correct, that there was another way out. If not, this immense tomb might very well become their final resting place.

The corridor ended with a wooden door, bolted shut. Riandr pressed her ear against the panels, listening for movement or voices, but heard only the sound of a gentle breeze as it pushed through the door's cracks. She pulled her lock picks from her sleeve and set to work. The lock gave way to her with ease and she pushed the door open, to find another corridor that turned abruptly north and out of sight. The floor appeared rougher, the stones jagged. The sound of snapping stone caught her attention and she watched a section of the ceiling crack and crumble to the floor. She glared at Fil, annoyed.

"What?" he whispered to her. "This place is a few millenniums old. Might not be my fault."

Riandr stepped forward into the corridor, trying to avoid the portions of stone floor that harbored ceiling rock and sand. The debris only added to the difficulty of moving silently. She had no idea if the residents of the tomb had heard the devastation in the dinning cavern. They had traveled so deep into the earth and rock she wasn't sure any sound could travel this far. Still, it was best to be on guard, silence their friend. She had no desire to announce their presence to anyone or for that matter, anything.

The wooden door closed behind them with a loud thud. She turned and glared at Gian the last one to enter the corridor. Stupid woman should have silenced the door! The girl shrugged an apology. She and Fil exchanged a glance, then waited, their ears straining to hear a sound, any sound that would herald the coming of the enemy. They heard nothing but the splash of water on stone and the ever present whisper of wind.

The corridor ahead of them was lit at intervals with torches suspended in wall sconces. Their flame's erratic light tossed shadows against the cold stone corridor, playing tricks with their eyes. Fil nodded toward the beckoning corridor and she shrugged. They could not go back, that was certain, forward was all they had. She gestured to the others to stay behind them. Myllian took up the rear position, her Dwarven axe glittering in the torchlight.

They crept slowly along the stones, feeling both protected by their presence and confined by them. The cold of the stones quickly bit into the skin, reminding them how very deep beneath the surface they were. The smell of damp earth, rotting vegetation and death surrounded them.

Riandr moved silently along the path, as did Fil. The other's footsteps echoed off the walls of the now narrow passage, making Riandr wince with each step. She gave Fil a look and he rolled his eyes and nodded. Reaching into his bag he removed a torn and dusty scroll, opening it with a gentle reverence. Riandr glanced over his shoulder and could see the mess of symbols and runes etched upon its surface. It made no sense to her, but to Fil, it was wisdom and power. He began to read the words aloud and as he did so the page started to glow with a soft green fire, brilliant and beautiful, until finally the green flames consumed the parchment and then shot toward their companions, covering them in its light. They turned on the mage, uncertain and a little furious. Fil placed his finger upon his lips, and then stepped forward.

Myllian nodded and tentatively took a step, her movement now completely silent. She grinned at the mage. Gian performed a short silent dance, grinning. The boy continued to stare forward, intent only on the darkness ahead of them. Fil nodded to Riandr and they continued on.

Riandr moved through the increasing darkness of the corridor as if it were sunlight, her ears straining to catch and identify any sound. In her right hand she held a dagger, a gift from the Nightmother upon her acceptance into the Brotherhood. The blade felt warm against her palm and had been joined to her in a ceremony she had barely survived. For anyone else it was merely an ebony dagger, when she held the weapon however, it came alive; its need for blood pulsing through her, red flames flickering across its sharp edge. No mark had ever seen the flames, but she did and she found comfort in their presence. She had named the blade Silence.

In her other hand she held an Elven dagger. Longer than the standard Nordic daggers, Elven blades were curved slightly at the tip. As with all things Elven they were designed to be both efficient and beautiful. Slim and lightweight, they were often decorated with the head of a raptor on the hilt. The blades were not made of iron or steel, but of moonstone and quicksilver. The combination made the blade infinitely stronger and would hold its razor sharp edge cut after cut. In addition to its Elven refinements, Riandr had enchanted the blade to steal souls. When she had a soul gem handy she always used the Elven blade for the final cut. Not on a mark, those souls were promised to Sithis, but animals, creatures and the undead were fair game. Her brother had used her skills on countless occasions to recharge a weapon or the soul gems he so desperately needed for his spells. She was certain she would find a great many souls to trap for him in this gods' forsaken place.

A burst of air hit her in the face and she froze. The scent had changed. Among the smell of damp earth and rot and death, she could now smell sweat. She glanced at Fil and saw him nod; he could smell it as well. Human, Orc and… an Elf by the scent.

She raised her hand, halting the other's movements and inched forward, crouching, moving silently through the darkened corridor. Her daggers felt warm and powerful in her hands. Silence seemed to throb in anticipation of the kill, almost aching with its desire for blood. The corridor wound slightly north, she and Fil followed it, the odor of their prey growing stronger. As they rounded a sharp bend the stone corridor opened slightly to show a set of steep stairs. The base of the stairs led into a larger room and she could hear the occupant's conversation as it echoed off the rock walls. They moved silently down the stones, assessing their prey.

"Lying little harlot, that brat ain't mine, could be anyone's! Won't get one rusty septim outta me!" The voice was deep, male, Nord. The accent suggested he was from Haafingar. The Nords from that region were particularly large and powerful. She would eliminate him first.

"Good god, man, cease this useless prattle! 'Kid ain't mine, stupid cow'. I have had enough! Move the woman and her spawn here or better yet, kill the pair! Either way end your incessant babbling!" Riandr glanced at Fil. The tone was pompous, the speech, educated. Elven and probably a mage. Fil nodded. The Elf would be his target.

There was a deep grunt, followed by an even deeper chuckle. "You humans should tend to your worship, not your pups. Malacath says…"

The Elf interrupted him, "And I do not want to hear another word about Malacath!"

The Orc growled, "You will not speak of Malacath in that manner Elf or I will end your life with one swing of my axe!"

Riandr could hear the Elf suck in a breath to prepare a response, and she took that moment to act. She moved into the room silently, still crouched and hidden by the stair's shadow. The Nord stood directly in front of her, his back to her. The Elf, turned sideways to them, had begun to rise from his chair, possibly to rant more effectively at the Orc. The Orc stood with his back against a wooden door, facing them.

She did not need to glance at Fil or direct him, they knew each other, knew without saying what they would do, how they would react. In a blur she was standing behind the Nord, Silence screaming for the kill. She rose and in one swift movement, flipped the Elven dagger in her left hand and sent it flying across the room. It ended its flight deep in the Orc's right shoulder. The look of surprise on the Orc's face made her grin. The Elven mage spun on the Nord as from his perspective it appeared as if the Nord had thrown the blade. For a fraction of a second she found the look of shock on the mage's face almost as amusing as the Orc's, then she grabbed the Nord's head with her left hand, pulled it back and drew Silence across his throat. The blade screamed its joy as the man's blood spurted forth, covering it.

Fil chose that moment to release his spell. He hit the mage in the chest, the force of his fireball flipping the Elf backwards over the chair, to sprawl, dead at the Orc's feet. The Orc, seeing his companions slaughtered and finally registering the pain of her dagger in his shoulder, began to growl and reach for the axe he had strapped to his back. Riandr leapt across the room in a powerful, silent lunge. Before the Orc could get further than reaching for his blade, she had buried hers in his chest. His blood burst from his heart where she had torn him open, covering her in its warmth.

Fil moved toward the mage's corpse, pulling it away from the Orcan blood that had begun to pool on the floor. He wanted to scavenge anything he could from the Elven mage and he wasn't about to let it be covered with foul smelling Orc blood.

He tried not to stare at his sister while he did so, however he had to admit, he found it difficult. The magic held inside his sister's garments was impressive and even with his remarkable skills he would be unable to duplicate it. The armor was leather, black and red depending upon the light. It was skin tight, covered her from head to toe and looked no sturdier than a first level blacksmith's attempt at a forge. But the Brotherhood's armor was a gift from their god, and was designed to encourage them to practice their art. The armor fed on the blood of her victims. Whether they were a contract or not, when blood was splattered onto the armor it absorbed it, then used the essence of the blood to grow stronger. A morbid ability to be sure, but infinitely useful in her profession. He watched the blood that covered her slowly drain into the suit, leaving his sister spotless.

She glanced at him as she pulled her blade from the Orc's shoulder, wiping it clean on her thigh she murmured reproachfully, "Fil…"

He grinned and turned his attention back to the dead mage. She hated how easily he lost focus. He grumbled at the lack of swag on the mage. Some mountain flowers, a few nightshade blooms. 'Hmm…," he paused as his fingers hit something round and smooth. 'What's this?' He pulled it from the Elf's pocket, turning it over in his hand. It was a stone, black and smooth except for a short series of runes traced on one side. They were not runes that Fil recognized so he was simultaneously excited and frustrated. There was very little that Fil did not know about magic. A lifetime of study had made him confident where his skills were concerned. So finding these runes a complete unknown annoyed him a little. It also offered him a mystery to solve and that appealed to him. He shoved the stone into his satchel.

Riandr moved toward the wooden door the Orc had been guarding. There were no sounds of support for these men coming from the cracks in the door and she nodded to Fil, gesturing to him to fetch the others. He took a quick moment to glance around the room; he didn't want to miss a treasure simply because she was impatient to finish the job.

The Elf had been seated in front of a stone table; but the table top was empty of anything other than linen wraps. There was a bookcase in the corner however and that was interesting enough to risk annoying his sister. He took a quick second to glance through its contents. There was not much to peak his interest, more linen wraps, a few ruined books, a potion of healing, a couple of goblets. 'Oh wait…' he paused for a moment, 'what do we have here?' From between two of the ruined tomes a soft purple glow pulsed captivatingly. Tossing the ruined books on the ground, he grabbed the gently glowing tome. He ran his fingers over the leather cover and felt his heart race. The vibrant purple skin was lovingly crafted; brilliant scrollwork covered the spine, the symbol of Oblivion embedded in delicate detail on the front cover. He recognized the volume at once; it was a copy of the tome, _The Doors of Oblivion_.

The work was a discourse on the research of Morian Zenas a brilliant and powerful mage. Written by his assistant, Seif-ij Hidja, it chronicled the mage's journey to find an entrance to Oblivion and his subsequent travels through many of its plains. Fil had had the good fortune of reading a copy of the tome early in his studies. Both Morian Zenas and his assistant were Master Conjurers and his study of the tome had offered great insight into the art of Conjuration. In particular he remembered a single line of the book that had stuck with him. _'When thou enterest into Oblivion, Oblivion entereth into thee.'_ Considering the damage only a few of Oblivion's denizens had just caused, Fil wondered if the stench of that world would ever be washed from his skin.

With a grimace he shoved the tome into his satchel. This particular tome would offer no further knowledge on the subject to him; however it was rare and extremely valuable. Leaving it behind would be a crime.

He turned then and headed back to gather the others. There was no need to glance at his sister to know her anxiousness to move forward. He could feel it as though it were his own. That was one of the blessings and curses of being twins, they could often sense the others thoughts, feelings, without words. He moved swiftly back along the corridor, not wanting to increase her anxiety. He knew she already had more weight on her shoulders than he liked. It only added to his fundamental dislike of her order. However he spoke none of his mistrust of the Nightmother out loud. Not only was he not stupid, whether he worshiped the Nightmother or not he was well aware of the power that particular goddess possessed; he was also not willing to alienate his sister. He knew how conflicted she had always been about her gift. Her stint in the Thieves Guild had not brought her the purpose she had so desperately sought. It was only upon entering the Dark Brotherhood that she had finally found peace. He would not be the one to take that peace from her.

Riandr stayed by the door, sniffing the slight breeze that worked its way through the cracks. There were no distinctive sounds of movement or motion behind the door. But the smell was different somehow. More damp perhaps, but something else as well. She racked her mind, trying to place the odor. So intent on identifying this new smell she almost didn't hear the others enter the room. Almost.

Fil moved to her side watching her face. "What are you thinking?"

She leaned in toward a crack, sniffing again. "Not sure."

Fil leaned toward a crack and took a whiff. He could smell damp earth, some sulfur, Orc blood, 'Damn fool must have splattered his blood on the door,' Fil gagged. There was also, something else, something metallic? Almost crisp…

Riandr and Fil glanced at each other and in unison said, "Shock spell." Riandr began searching the door for signs of a trap, but there were none. Turning to the others she said softly, "The smell of lightening fills the breeze from the corridor. I expect traps and mages ahead. Stay on your guard."

"Will I get to kill something this time?" Myllian's tone was annoyed. Staying behind to guard the client was obviously not what the warrior was accustomed to.

"Gods willing, Redguard," Fil laughed.

Myllian grunted in response mumbling something that sounded like, "'bout damn time."

Riandr opened the door soundlessly. The corridor continued forward again, turning slightly south and then deeper into the earth. She had a sudden image of the tomb ending in the center of the world, the cold and ice of its lightless caverns sending a chill down her spine. What could the boy possibly desire from a place such as this? Her thoughts drifted again to the lad who followed closely behind her. A child and yet obviously not a child. Was he a god-child perhaps or possibly the off-spring of a god? A blessed follower? She did not have the training needed to be able to tell. The boy had not performed a single act of aggression, magic or god-like ability. But she could sense it on him, smell it on him. Power. A depth of power and ability she had never come across before. It covered him and seeped from his skin. He may not have displayed his power yet, but she knew it was there. What she didn't know was how his power might manifest itself. Good or evil? Riandr had trouble qualifying these aspects. Most sentient beings would consider her, as an assassin, evil. However she would disagree. She served a higher purpose, one that most would or could not understand.

What she must consider was if the boy was a danger to herself or Fil and if he proved to be so, what she could do to prevent him from harming them or more importantly, from harming her brother.

She glanced at her brother who moved effortlessly along side her. No one, god or mortal, would harm her brother while she lived to prevent it. Fil turned to her, catching a glimpse of her thoughts in her expression. He grinned and shook his head slightly, always surprised at her intensity. He didn't need to respond to her thoughts; she knew he would die before allowing anyone to harm her. But what about the boy? Could they stand united against him if he decided they were no longer useful?

Fil returned his attention quickly to the corridor before them, hiding his response to her unspoken question. From the amount of power emanating from the child, Fil was certain, if the boy decided he was finished with them, they would be dead.

The scent of lightning grew stronger on the breeze and Riandr's forward motion grew more cautious in response. The dank corridor was still sloping downward but had straightened out for a time. Riandr could feel the slight increase in magic in the air as another set of stone steps appeared in front of them. She moved to the edge to find the shadowed stairs empting into a large room. In the flickering torch light she could see its walls were lined with stone slabs, mummified remains resting in these stone beds. In the center of the room lay three men. Clothed in mage robes, they were silent and unmoving upon the stone floor.

Riandr glanced at her brother and he nodded in agreement to her unspoken alarm. Dead mages were never a good sign. Fil gestured to her to wait and moved ahead slightly, attempting to identify the spell. He wanted to know if the mages had been attempting to raise the undead or destroy them, before he proceeded. He wasn't sure if it was the mage's spells or the amount of undead here that was giving off the intense electrical scent.

The spells for raising the dead and destroying the undead were similar, but with vastly different results. Raising the dead was akin to hitting them with a focused bolt of lightning that was embedded with magicka. The trick was it needed to be just the right combination of lightning and magicka to charge them into life, but not to such a degree that they burst apart from impact. He had seen many a rookie necromancer covered in rotten flesh after having charged a corpse a little too much. Most mages only made that mistake once.

Destroying the undead with a lightning spell was very similar. You simply hit them with a more intense spell, your focus on the power of the lightning, less on the quality of the magicka and stood back to avoid the mess as they exploded. The issue for many young mages was grasping that the _dead_ and the _undead_ were not one in the same.

He crept down the stairs, his sister beside him. At the base the room opened up into a large doomed expanse, exposing at least twenty stone beds lining the walls, each bed filled with draugr. The scent was considerably more intense here and Fil decided the mages had foolishly attempted to raise the draugr. 'Witless fools,' he mumbled to himself. Draugr were already undead! They were, for all intents and purposes, alive, having been reanimated or turned to zombies. To unleash a spell on them attempting to raise them again, would instantly backfire on the untrained. Any adept level mage would know you had to kill the draugr first and then reanimate them! Fil wondered how any of these initiates had survived this long. 'Idiots,' he grumbled.

Without entering the room and awakening the draugr he fished in his pack for the right scroll. He wanted to have begun the spell before he entered the room. It would be most effective if he caught as many of the undead as possible in its range. He would not cast a spell of undead turning; he had never been a fan of spells that caused the undead to flee. What good did it do to have them run away now, only to surprise attack him later? He had become proficient in destroying them. He felt the only good draugr was an exploded draugr, or one that worked for him. Reanimating a dead draugr had come in handy on occasion, though he preferred reanimating one of his sister's kills. That had been a helpful tool in their early days, before her initiation into the Dark Brotherhood. After her initiation, well, Sithis did not take kindly to his contracts being reanimated.

His hand found the scroll he needed and he nodded. She glanced at the others, motioning toward Fil and herself. Myllian spun her Dwarven axe in her hands, her anticipation of battle palpable. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Gian pull the boy closer to her, her hands resting protectively on his shoulders. Riandr was uncertain if Gian was simply protecting the client as she was hired to do, or if perhaps she had developed some attachment to the boy. Either way it suited Riandr to have a healer as the boy's guardian.

Fil unfurled the scroll, stepping into the room. He began to read the runes aloud, his voice soft at first, then growing increasingly louder. Riandr knew this was an attempt to wake the undead as he moved toward the center of the room; he needed them to awaken, focus on him, for his spell to be effective. His voice began to fill with power, the tone and pitch of his words rising like an unwavering tide of force. Then he began to glow, blue bolts of lightning erupting from his hands. Fil stood in the center of the room alone, the blue lightning racing along his body, consuming him, as the undead began to awaken and turn toward him.

Fil felt himself fill with the power of his words. He loved this part of magic, this joining, the warmth and power that filled him. He became one with the power, one with the music of magic. It washed over him, completed him, changed him. For this brief moment he was more than Fil, more than mortal. He was a vessel, a conduit for a power he could barely comprehend. He felt part of something so large, so vast that his mind could not begin to grasp it, but it filled him nonetheless. He watched the undead awaken and turn to him. Watched them growl and raise their swords, axes and maces. Fil counted at least twenty rise from their beds, their only thought that of his destruction. For a moment he pitied them. They existed for one purpose, to destroy all who entered this tomb and they would fail.

Fil smiled as the quickest of them raced toward him, his sword arcing toward the mage. He paused a moment, longing to keep this feeling of completeness with his magicka, but the descending blade convinced him that might be unwise. He spoke the final word, a short guttural sound of release, and watched as the blue lightning burst outward from him, filling the air around him with its coruscating charge. He thrilled as the bolts jumped from draugr to draugr, the undead bursting into flame and ash and the smell of roasted flesh.

Riandr waited only a moment after Fil released his spell before entering the room, intent on locating the undead that had not been within sight of Fil's spell. She was almost knocked off her feet as Myllian swept past her, a vicious roar erupting from the woman. The glitter of Dwarven metal danced around the room as Myllian made quick work of the remaining undead. Riandr paused, watching the Redguard's work. Her axe moved like liquid gold, a circle sweep, a graceful arc, a lethal stab, a deadly head butt. She could hear the Redguard humming a tune as she worked, her entire deadly dance timed to the rhythm of her melody. With a final flourish she decapitated the remaining two undead, their heads flying across the room to end up bouncing against the walls of the corridor. Their headless bodies slowly slumped to the floor, the soft thud they made echoing in the now silent room.

"Gods!" Myllian almost shouted. "That felt _good_!"

Riandr grinned and then nodded to the warrior in acknowledgement of the woman's skill. This was why she had searched the woman out. The Redguard's ability to kill was a thing of beauty. Moving to her brother's side, she helped him to his feet. He wouldn't admit it, but as glorious as she knew it was for him to be one with his magicka, it also drained him, leaving him vulnerable.

He leaned on her for a moment, but his eyes never left Myllian. "That was… that was amazing!"

Myllian grinned wickedly and then nodded toward the mage. "Thank you. I believe I should return the compliment. You took out most of the undead before I could enter the room! Next time leave me something to hit."

Fil laughed. "I'll try to do better in the future."

Gian and the boy joined them, Gian unable to remove a look of disgust from her face. "Eek. Undead. I hate them."

Myllian and Fil glanced at each other, chuckling.

"We should continue on," the child said quietly. His comment was addressed to them all, but Riandr felt the command like a slap in the face. She did not reply as she crossed the room, heading toward the corridor.


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

She moved to the opening in the opposite side of the room away from the corridor they had come through. The hallway was darker, light only by an occasional torch and continued on its downward slope. She glanced at her brother and he gave her a reassuring nod, indicating he was back to full strength. He moved to her side as they took their respective places. They continued to work their way deeper into the tomb. The passage branched out a few times, each of these branches proving to be a dead end. They did not encounter additional bandits or soldiers, but Myllian made short work of the few draugr they ran across.

Riandr found herself growing less concerned about bandits and more surprised at the scarcity of traps in a tomb whose legend suggested it was nothing but. The only real trouble had been Fil's headlong rush at a chest. Sitting atop a small platform, a large stone bird above it, the chest was bracketed by torches, their light flickering provocatively along the trunk's golden filigree. Brilliant as her brother was he had proven no match for the trap's seductive call. When he raced to lift the lid, she had to shove him to the side, her glare freezing his angry retort. It took her only a moment to find and disarm a springtrip buried in the trunk's clasp. The soft sputter of flame that trickled from the stone bird's beak screamed louder than words how close Fil had come to being burnt alive. His sheepish expression did nothing to quell her fears for his safety and she wondered if perhaps letting him be slightly scalded might have dampened his insatiable appetite for loot. Then again she thought, if poisoned darts, bursts of flame, raging bandits and murderous draugr hadn't dampened his lust for treasure, she doubted anything could.

They continued along the corridor, the intermittent torches of flickering magefire their only light. Though it took a while for the difference to register; she sensed the corridor growing progressively larger. It felt as if the walls themselves were pulling away from the group as they approached. By the time they came upon a wooden door, the stone corridor felt twice as large; the cold damp of the stones barely permeating her leather armor. Riandr placed her fingers against the slight gap between the door's edges and the stone tunnel. She listened to the sound the wood made as she pressed her fingers against it, felt the wood give, the soft whisper of air that pushed through the gaps. Satisfied that it was not trapped, she picked the lock and pushed the door open.

Before them lay a long corridor, its width increasingly steadily until it was easily twice as high and wide. On both sides of the corridor the walls were covered with carvings. Stone images of gods and men, priests of old and the mortals who lay prostrate at their feet.

"A Nordic Hall of Stories!" Fil whispered in awe.

Riandr glanced back at the client, who simply gestured forward. Where they stood the corridor was primarily shadow, the only torches in the long expanse at the other end, illuminating what appeared to be an even larger door. She moved silently into the corridor, feeling at home in the darkness, but not letting her senses falter. She was not the only creature who felt at home in the dark.

The band followed her, moving silently. Fil could not stop staring at the ornate carvings, the images and the stories they told fascinating him. He paused at one point, his attention caught by the image of two priests, a thousand mortals of various races prone at their feet. The men were engraved with arms spread wide, their faces covered with what appeared to be masks of some kind. In a strange moment of symbolism they were carved grasping each other's hand in an almost kinly embrace, while the opposite hand held a shard of some kind. Fil touched his sister's arm, forcing her attention to the panel. If he was right, this was probably a depiction of the legendary Gaunerians that protected this tomb. The rays of power that burst from the shards were clear.

Without risking a glance at her he could tell from the quickening of her breath, the sudden stillness in her stance that she had come to the same conclusion as he. The shards must be the client's goal! The lines of power engraved in the stone seemed to pour from the shards, drenching the supplicants beneath them in its light. They stared at the relief, registering the carvings, glyphs, runes and symbolism. Fil did not need to say aloud what the image implied. Even without the shards, any priest who had sacrificed so many souls to his immortality would be incredibly powerful.

Riandr tore her gaze from the carving, forcing herself to continue forward. Seeing so clearly the depth of depravity these priests sank to only increased her desire to destroy them. She may be considered by some to be evil, but murder, on that scale to create power, life unending for oneself? That was the face of true evil.

They reached the stone door without trouble. Riandr could only wonder if that implied that whatever lay beyond the door was so powerful, that the integrity of this corridor was beneath them. She brushed these thoughts from her mind and forced herself to examine the door. Embedded in the center were three bands of stone that formed concentric circles. Each band held three glyphs. The bands surrounded a center circle that held a carved indentation, the depression perfectly formed to hold a three fingered claw.

She turned to the client, a sense of excitement filling her. This was an ancient Nordic puzzle door, it had to be! And if that were true, there was only one way in. Even with her vast thieving skills, she needed the key. The boy gestured to Gian. The woman jumped, suddenly realizing they were all staring at her. She giggled in embarrassment and reached into the satchel on her shoulder. Searching in her bag she looked worried for a moment, then grinned and pulled out a large wooden claw and handed it to Riandr.

Riandr ran her finger along its length, feeling its grain, its length and the razor sharp talons at its fingertips. Shriveled and repulsive it had apparently come from a living being, chopped from the creature at the wrist. It reminded her of a Hagraven's claw. Hagravens, vicious creatures who were half woman, half bird were often hobbled and grotesque. Their skin and hands were dark in color, rather gnarled, with vicious looking talons. This claw was frozen in just the right proportions to fit into the opening in the center circle.

Riandr turned toward the door, her excitement palpable. Legend said only a handful of puzzle doors existed. Not only was she standing before one, but she had just been given the key! She tried to remember what her teacher had said about these doors. The claw, worth its weight in gold, was used at the end, the bands were the key. But what was it about the bands? Her brain pulled back the layers of years and dust that clouded her thieves training. What had Brynjolf told her? Had she been too drunk to listen? Or too busy staring into his eyes? 'Stop it, fool,' Riandr mentally chided herself, 'his eyes are a distant past. Focus on the door.' She reached up and gently touched the uppermost image. There was a clunk and then the sound of stone grating against sand as the outer band turned one third of the way around. A new image appeared at the top. That of a snake.

'Images… images…' Riandr paused a moment, then the memory shot forward in her mind and through the years Brynjolf spoke to her.

"_The secret's on the claw, lass. That's what most dinna know. Ya must hold the claw up to the light reflected off the door and the palm of the claw will show ya the key."_

Riandr grinned then leaned closer to the door, letting the light from the torches reflect off the door and onto the palm of the claw. There, engraved in tiny images, was the sequence of carvings needed to open the door. Trying to contain her excitement, she gently tapped each of the bands, thrilling as they turned, exposing new glyphs. As the wheels turned their grating filled the corridor until the images reflected the sequence found on the palm. Assuring herself that her companions were ready, she placed the claw in the center circle and pushed. The bands sprung to life. Whirling rapidly in opposite directions, the glyphs became a blur. All at once the bands stopped, each displaying the image of a howling wolf. With a loud crack the door began to drop, the ancient stone rasping against itself as it slowly sank into the ground. Each inch accentuated by a loud thud that echoed down the corridor.

It was only when the door was lost in the floor below that Fil whispered, "Not a quiet entrance, is it?"

Riandr would have grinned but she was too overwhelmed by the size of the cavern before them. She absentmindedly handed the client back his claw, her senses already focused on reaching out into the room, trying to feel what danger lay ahead. She had visited most of Skyrim's capitals, a few Nordic ruins, even a Dwarven ruin once. Nothing had prepared her for the size and scope of what lay before her. The cavern appeared to be circular and rose so high she could not see its peak. To her left there had been a cave in, the rubble bursting into the room like an exploding loot sack, destroying forever what might have stood in that area. To her right the walls circled around, covered with the ever present black sarcophagi that usually held the undead. She counted to forty before they circled the room and were lost in the darkness.

Fil stretched forth his hand, flicking his wrist, and a ball of magelight began to glow in his palm. The light danced in his hand, blue shafts of light streaking from the brilliant white center. He shot the fire down the middle of the room, hoping to see what was lost in the darkness. What they saw was the base of an immense staircase that appeared to rise endlessly toward the distant ceiling. Fil let out a soundless whistle, and then shrugged. He snapped first one hand, which began to glow with red flame, then the other which held a glowing ball, shafts of red and purple shooting out from the pure white center. He motioned toward the staircase and grinned at his sister. "Shall we?"

Riandr nodded, already gripping her blades. Myllian joined them, her axe catching the last of the torch light, gleaming wickedly. Gian and the boy matched their pace as they slowly worked their way across the room.

Riandr's nerves were stretched to the breaking point by the time they reached the base of the steps. Nothing in the cavern had moved, not a sound had been heard. She was certain that they would know when the sarcophagi broke open, the crash of stone and sound of the undead's guttural growls would echo off every surface of this immense tomb. But even as their feet landed on the first of the steps, she had to acknowledge that nothing stirred. The stairs loomed endless before them. Not only did they have to fight the fatigue of such an immense climb, but also the stress of being alert, senses straining, their hearts pumping, waiting for the tomb to come to life and slaughter them. She tried to ignore these thoughts as she stepped upon the stairs, hesitating for only a moment to see if that would arouse the draugr. Nothing stirred. With a shrug and a glance at her brother, they began their ascent.

It seemed like ages before they reached their first plateau. Still the tomb around them remained silent. Fil glanced downward and instantly regretted the decision. The steps glowed dimly in the light from the magefire in his hands and then disappeared into the darkness. "Gods, I hope I don't slip," he murmured.

Riandr took a moment to assess the rest of their climb and how well her party was fairing. She was actually a little surprised that she felt as strong as she did. She knew her limits and she knew she should be getting close to them. Fil touched her arm and motioned to Gian. The girl had dropped to the platform, breathing heavily. Riandr glanced at her brother wondering the cause. He raised his eyebrows in acknowledgment of magic. It was his guess that the healer was somehow filling them with strength, stamina, at the cost of her own.

'Well,' Riandr thought, 'it seems the healer has multiple talents.' She could see that the girl's efforts were exhausting her though, so she gestured to Myllian to offer the girl her arm, but Gian waved her off. Instead the boy took the girl's hand in his. Almost instantly she appeared stronger, steadier. Gian rose and murmured a quiet, 'thank you' to the boy. Riandr again pondered what her client really was and once again tossed it from her mind. Distractions would get them killed.

She motioned to the others to continue and refused to look down as Fil had and see just how high they had climbed, she was certain she didn't want to know. At this point the only light was from the flames in Fil's hands. The spells combined to give the staircase a strange lavender glow. She once again said a prayer of thanks to the Nightmother for allowing her the ability to see in the darkness. She may not have the sight of a Khajiit, but she was quite gifted when compared to the average mortal.

Fil shot a ball of magelight upward. By its glow she could tell they were coming to the summit, the stairs simply ceased, but from the angle she was at she could not yet tell what was on the platform ahead of them.

She gestured to the others to hold back, as she and Fil moved slowly toward the stair's peek. They halted just at the point where they could see over the top of the stairs. Fil raised his hand far enough to allow the magelight to illuminate the platform. The dais was large and flat, empty but for two large sarcophagi in its center. They lay close together and glowed dark green in the magelight. Riandr's eyes narrowed. From her vantage point she could not see another egress. How were they supposed to leave here? Work their way back down the stairs, possibly facing the legions of undead below?

She glanced down at the boy and he motioned for her to move forward. Whatever the boy might know, he was not yet sharing it with her. Fil shrugged, sharing her concern but also accepting that they had no other option but to move forward. She sighed and took another step toward the platform.

That was when it happened. Without warning every torch, every brazier in the tomb, sprang to life. The cavern was flooded with a brilliant radiance. They were blinded for a moment, the intensity of the light overwhelming after their time in the darkness. But even without their sight, they could hear the sounds that surrounded them. With a thunderous echo a hundred cairns burst open simultaneously, their stone lids crashing to the floor, smashing to pieces. The low guttural growl of draugr filled the cavern. Though that alone might send a rush of fear down Riandr's spine, what caused her to hesitate was the sound of the two cairns, sitting in the center of the platform before her, splitting open. The lids of the ancient malachite tombs shattered like glass and the joined voices of the undead Gaunerian Priests began howling to them of their doom.

Riandr turned to Fil, her intent written clearly on her face. The draugr below could wait; it would take the undead time to reach the summit of the stair case where they were. Their focus needed to be on the immediate danger, the Gaunerians. Fil nodded, the flames in his palms growing brighter, and then they rushed forward together, weapons and spells at the ready.

The priests rose before them, floating a foot or so above the platform, their horrifying chant growing louder as she and Fil drew near. Each priest wore tattered robes, destroyed by centuries of decay. The torn clothe hovered in the air around them, dancing in the energy that flowed from each of them. Their faces were covered with gilded masks, but what could be seen of their skin appeared wrinkled and desiccated. Riandr noticed that like their carving the two held hands, but unlike their carvings each held a brilliant staff in the other. Both priests crackled with power that poured from them and washed over Riandr and Fil, making their skin tingle in response.

Without hesitation Fil hit the first priest he saw straight in the chest with both spells, a powerful spell of undead turning and an intense fireball. It knocked the priest backward, stunning him for a moment. Riandr took that moment to move quickly behind the second Gaunerian, intent on disappearing in the priest's blind spot and then stabbing him with her blades while he was unaware of her presence. There was not much shadow on the brilliantly lit dais, but there was enough. She moved unseen behind her prey and bracing herself, lunged forward, thrilling as her blades dug deep into his back. The sensation was not what she expected. There was no resistance to her thrust as with flesh and bone. The daggers moved effortlessly into the ragged cloak and through what she had assumed would be muscle, but felt more like thrusting into water. The priest appeared to be more ethereal than flesh. She would have been concerned that her attack had no effect except the priest made a high pitched squealing noise that she knew well. She gripped her blades tightly as she rolled away from the Gaunerian and began an attack on the other priest.

She and her brother had always fought this way, switching back and forth between their opponents. They had found it to be an effective way of keeping their enemies unbalanced. By the time she had positioned herself for an attack on the first priest, Fil was already unloading a round of intense lightening into the other. Riandr's used the shadows, used the priest's blind spots so that she was almost invisible. The priests, unable to locate her, focused their deadly spells on Fil. They shot ice and flame from their staffs, growling their frustration as the spells ricocheted off his spell of warding. The platform was flooded with lightening, ice, fireballs and the flash of her blades. Back and forth they fought, dodging the deadly spells the priests threw at them, while slicing into them with blade and fire.

She was so intent on her attacks that she almost missed it. Throughout the battle the priests, as intent as they were on attacking Fil and as much pain as they were in from the thrust of her daggers, had not yet released their grasp on one another. Their hands were still entwined as tightly as lovers. This knowledge was just registering in her subconscious when she saw her brother take the brunt of an ice spear in his leg. His howl of pain focused her thoughts and she turned on the priests. She had to end this; Fil was in no condition to continue. How could she destroy them? They had withstood every thrust, every bolt of lightning! Once again her attention was drawn to the oddity of their stance, the coupling of their hands was so strange… too strange to have no meaning. Perhaps if she destroyed their link it might, if nothing else, distract them and give her and Fil an advantage.

She melted into a crouch, her instinctive stance, watching the priests from behind. They laughed in unison, or at least she thought they did, the sound sending shivers of revulsion down her back. As they pointed their staffs for a combined attack at Fil, she leapt from her crouched position, both blades focused on one point, the priest's joined hands. As her blades' sharpen edges sliced through their dead flesh, tearing apart bone and sinew, they shrieked in pain, the sound echoing in the cavern. Riandr dropped into her crouch, grinning. She knew the tide of the battle had just turned. The priest closest to her, his mouth still open in a rictus of pain, turned and oriented on her. He raised his staff above his head for a moment, preparing a devastating spell. It was the only moment she needed. She sprang from her crouch, both blades committed in a deadly thrust. The blades sang as they tore their way through the ethereal flesh beneath the priest's chin, to decimate whatever brain matter was left in this walking corpse. The priest gave out a surprised and furious howl and then exploded into ash and soot. Riandr threw herself away from the blast, and rolling to her feet turned on the second priest.

Fil lay prone on the platform, his leg unable to hold his weight. The second priest had been advancing on Fil, a glowing ball of lightening coalescing at the end of his staff. The sound of his brother's wail caused him to turn toward Riandr. Fil took that moment to call upon his fireball spell. As his palm filled with flame, he grabbed onto the priest's cloak and pulled himself upright. The priest turned on him, furious, his staff at the ready, when Fil shoved his glowing hand up through the priest's dead esophagus and into his brain pan. He let the fireball explode, sending pieces of undead priest scattering across the platform's expanse.

As the priest exploded, his corporeal form gone, the cloak Fil had been holding onto gave way and he went crashing to the ground. Riandr raced to his side. "What in the name of the gods was that?"

"What?" Fil grimaced. "You did it."

"I'm not injured, mage!" Riandr chided him again, her fear for his life overwhelming her.

"I'm not _that_ injured. Besides, couldn't let you have all the glory." Fil grinned and turned his attention to the two mounds of priest ash left on the floor. Grunting in pain he crawled to the nearest pile.

"Stop moving, Fil! You will open your wound even more. By the god's what are you doing?"

"I am not leaving without their staffs! And whatever other goodies they may have. We've earned them!"

Riandr growled in annoyed affection.

"Oh, boss lady…" Myllian shouted as she raced across the platform, Camber and Gian beside her. "We need to get out of here. Now!"

Riandr glanced from Myllian to the edge of the platform. "Bad?"

Myllian nodded. "Very bad. I'm good… but hundreds of draugr? Not sure we can handle that."

"She's already taken out half of them. They're piled up on the lower platform." Gian gazed at the Redguard in awe.

"Gods…" Riandr motioned to Gian. "You have one minute to see what you can do with Fil's wound."

Gian nodded and raced to Fil's side, trying to make him stop foraging long enough for her to work her healing. Riandr's gaze followed Camber as he raced toward the priest's sarcophagi, scrambling into them. She followed him, intent on an exit. The boy crouched in the sarcophagi, flinging debris from their death beds. Silks and linen, swords, daggers and jewels flew through the air. She could hear Fil groan, but from pain or the loss of swag she couldn't tell.

"Boy."

Camber ignored her in his desperate search.

"Boy!"

"What?" was his impatient reply, never taking his eyes off the sarcophagi's contents.

"You know of a way out of here?"

Camber nodded but did not reply; instead he raised a shard of metal into the air in triumph. It looked exactly like the carving in the hallway. "Yes! Finally! Quick, find the other! We will need both if we wish to leave!"

Riandr growled something in response and then began digging through the sarcophagi's debris. It took them another minute to find the second piece. The boy's eyes began to glow with an intensity that Riandr once again found disturbing.

"Now! Now we may leave!" Camber dropped into the space between the two cairns, disappearing from sight.

"What in the name of the gods?" Riandr had a sudden desire to run her blade across the boy's smooth throat.

She barely heard the growl of triumph from the boy before the stone beneath their feet began to shake. They heard a loud, grating sound and then the two sarcophagi began to separate. The boy popped his head up from between them. "Hurry, they will only stay open for a short time!"

Riandr raced back to her brother, his leg much sturdier after Gian's administrations. Gian however was considerably weaker. Riandr motioned to Myllian to support the healer, while she took care of her brother. The sound of the advancing draugr was growing louder and she did not need to tell them what that meant. They worked their way back to the sarcophagi as quickly as possible, finding it difficult as the platform shook violently beneath their feet.

When they reached the sarcophagi Riandr was surprised to find a large wooden staircase had been exposed beneath them, spiraling into the darkness below. On the platform, directly in front of the staircase, was an intricate circular design. Camber yanked the shards of metal they had worked so hard for out of the floor where he had used them to complete the design. As soon as the boy removed the pieces, the trap door began to close again.

Camber leapt onto the stairs and was instantly lost to the darkness. Riandr motioned for Myllian to help Gian down next. She had to shove Fil in after. She could see the top of the first of the draugr's heads reach the edge of the platform as she moved onto the wooden staircase. Waiting just below the surface of the platform, she readied herself to dispense any undead who might reach the opening before it resealed. She thought one or two might have made it, but the grating of stone and the sound of snapping bones made her grin. Not quite. The staircase was unlit but her trained eyes searched the darkness for her brother. She saw him flick his hand and watched it come alive with the blue flame of his magelight spell. He glanced up at her, his expression anxious. When he saw her, he grinned. "You coming?"

Riandr smiled back. "On my way." She moved swiftly down the circular stairs, wondering if they would meet any more resistance before they were free of this accursed place.


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

They did not encounter another soul, living or undead as they left the tomb. The stone tunnels snaked through the earth toward an exit leagues from the entrance, much closer to Whiterun than she would have imagined. It took the better part of a day for them to reach the city and the entire band was near exhaustion when they arrived at its massive gate. The guards posted there gave them the usual verbal abuse, murmuring something about difficult times, civil war and dragons. Riandr was once again surprised at the garbage people believed. Dragons? Ridiculous.

The gates closed behind them and Riandr paused a moment, taking in the city. She had been to Whiterun many times, always leaving with full pockets. The broad stone street wound its way before them, branching left toward the Wind district or straight toward the market and the Bannered Mare. To the right was the Warmaiden a decent blacksmith's run by Adrianne. The woman was a gifted blacksmith who was not prone to asking questions. On a little hill ahead of them stood the Drunken Huntsman, a small bar and weapons shop. The brothers who owned the place were decent enough, if a bit loose with their hands. She had enjoyed a pint there once and spent the night fighting off Anoriath's advances. It had taken a slight cut to his inner thigh before he got the hint.

She had already decided to skip the bar and head straight for the Bannered Mare. What they needed was a good meal and night's rest. In addition she was hoping Hulda or Ysolda might have a little local gossip to share. As they moved down the road two well-armed Alik'r warriors melted out of the shadows next to the guardhouse. Their armor, designed for the hot desert terrain of Hammerfell, flowed around them in swathes of dark cotton. Their heads were covered in turbans of thick white cloth, their feet in dark brown leather boots and at their sides hung their traditional vicious and deadly curved swords. One of the men reached out and grabbed Myllian's arm.

"Excuse me; we're looking for a Redguard woman. Have you seen her?" the man asked, his tone hostile.

Myllian turned on the man and with her free hand, grabbed his wrist. She began to squeeze as she responded, "Well, how lucky for you, you've found a Redguard woman! And now that you have, what do you intend to do about it?"

The man's face darkened in pain as Myllian slowly pulled his fingers from her arm and began to bend his wrist backward. His brown eyes grew large in fear and he had almost begun to howl when his friend stepped in. "Perhaps this is not the woman we seek, brother."

Her assailant nodded, unable to speak. Myllian released her hold on him and he quickly stepped back from her, his wrist dangling limply. "You are right, brother," he growled in low tones. "This is not the woman we are searching for."

"A thousand pardons, sister." The man's companion said in soothing tones. "We meant no offense."

"I did not find the question offensive." Her response left no doubt as to what she had been offended by.

"Again, please forgive us. We will leave you now." The man genuflected and began to back away from the party, glancing at their number and the advancing guards whose interest had been aroused. His partner was not so quick to withdraw.

"You will pay for this, wench. I will see to that," he muttered venomously, then turned and followed his brother.

The guards glanced in their direction and then returned to their post. It was much too nice a day to involve themselves in something so mundane as a street fight. Riandr grinned at Myllian. "Thank you for not killing them. I have no interest in spending the night in prison."

Myllian nodded. "Nor do I. I do pity whoever they are looking for though. Wonder what my kinswoman might have done that these two Alik'r mercenaries would pursue her so far from our homeland?"

Riandr watched the men return to the shadows from which they had sprung. Whoever the woman was, she certainly had made some powerful enemies. Continuing down the street they passed a house that had, as long as Riandr could remember, been empty. Fil gestured at the now lit windows and copious flower pots, clear signs of life. As they passed the house the front door opened and a young warrior stepped out onto the street. Riandr and Fil recognized her at once. Lydia, a shield maiden and Housecarl. Riandr glanced at Fil and he grinned. A Housecarl meant a Thane and a Thane meant gold. Fil glanced at Riandr and she gave a slight shake of her head and he sighed. If it were not for the boy he would have loved to visit the house, after dark and without permission of course.

They continued along the road, until it emptied into the marketplace. The stalls were stocked with the usual goods, vegetables, meats, a few baubles. None of them had any real desire to shop or haggle at the moment. It took all the strength they possessed to work their way up the stairs to the Bannered Mare. It was a relief to enter the bustling tavern. The central fire pit was lit and a few of the Mare's permanent guests sat by the fire, singing drunkenly along with the Bard. He played a jaunty tune on his lute, but spent most of his time laughing at the guests rather than seriously performing. The smell of venison stew wafted into the room from the adjoining kitchen.

Riandr glanced over at the bar and was relieved to see Hulda. She grinned at the tavern owner and took a seat at the bar. Fil joined her while Gian and Camber took a table in the corner. Myllian leaned against the wall by the door, her gaze taking in the boy, the room and the entrance.

"Ri! So good to see you, hon'. You look…" Hulda paused for a moment. "Well, darlin' you look exhausted."

Riandr smiled. "I am, Hulda. Any chance we can grab some rooms for the night? Need a decent meal and a good night's sleep."

"Certainly, my friend. Saadia? Where are you girl?"

A slight, Redguard woman rushed from the back room, tray in hand. Hulda gestured to the table where Gian and Camber sat. "Get 'der order girl and get 'dem fed, 'den make sure 'da rooms are clean. 'dey'll be needed tonight."

"Yes, Hulda." Saadia rushed to the table, intent on taking their order. At the sight of her, Myllian's face froze. She glanced at Riandr who shrugged. It might be the Redguard woman those men were looking for, it might not. At this point it was not her problem. She fervently hoped Myllian would not make it hers.

"So, my friend," Hulda asked excitedly while she placed pints of mead before them. "Tell me what you've been up to."

Riandr shrugged. "Lately we've been doing a little exploring. Dealing with bandits and draugr. The usual."

Hulda laughed and shook her head. "By 'da gods you two amaze me. Delving into 'dose accursed tombs, seeking out bandits and fulfilling 'da Jarl's contracts. It's a wonder you two are still alive. But," she turned her gaze toward Fil, "I am glad you are. How are you, my friend, any'ding new in your life?"

Fil glanced longingly at the expanse of bare skin and shoulder that Hulda's clothing allowed. Years ago they had had a short fling. Surprising considering Hulda's Nordic contempt for anything related to magic. He liked to believe it was his irresistible charms that broke through her inbred dislike of mage's, however it probably had more to due with her regard for his sister.

Whatever the reason the affair was passionate, though brief. They had both known he was too consumed with wanderlust to settle down and Hulda had refused to let their affair ruin her friendship with Riandr. So they had found a comfortable, if slightly awkward friendship. He had no interest in destroying that for another short fling. It would not only complicate their departure in the morning, but also anger his sister. Still, Hulda was a damned attractive woman. He cleared his throat and tried to dispel his memories of her body entwined with his. "Nothing new I'm afraid. How's business here?"

Hulda shrugged. "Da' same. A few travelers, some adventurers. Not as many as 'der used to be. What wid 'de increase in bandits and 'de dragons people are too afraid to travel."

"Dragons!" Riandr scoffed. "Please tell me you don't believe that garbage, Hulda."

Hulda expression showed her surprise. "What? You haven't heard?"

"Heard what?"

"Ri, 'da city was attacked! Well, right outside, by 'da watchtower! Huge fire brea'ding dragon. Killed two of 'da guards before 'dey killed it. Well 'dey didn't actually kill it…"

"What?" Fil leaned forward, his tone intense. "There was a dragon? Here? A real live fire breathing dragon?"

Hulda nodded. "Scariest 'ding I'd ever seen. Flew right over 'da city, almost blocked out 'da sun wi'd its girth. 'da city guard assembled and raced after it. Took 'da Dragonborn wi'd d'em as well. She was 'da one who actually killed it."

"Wait… wait…" Riandr shook her head as if to clear it. "There was a dragon, here… in Whiterun and it was killed by the Dragonborn?"

Hulda leaned forward onto the bar, her voice dropping. "Yes. A dragon, Ri. And 'da woman, well… she had no idea she was 'dis Dragonborn until after she killed 'da dragon. 'den, all of a sudden 'da dead dragon starts to glow and rays of light start streaming out of 'da beast and into 'da woman! I tell you it was som'ding to see! Well… I didn't see it, but 'da boys described it to me when 'dey got back."

Riandr stared at the woman, speechless.

"What did it look like? How did it fly? What were the flames like? Was it only flame? Did it have ice breath as well?" Fil couldn't ask his questions fast enough.

Hulda laughed. "I don't know! I wasn't 'dere. I was in 'da market when it flew over, couldn't get into 'de cellar fast enough. I was a little preoccupied with burning to deat' to notice how it flew."

"Good gods…" Fil mumbled into his beer. "A dragon! A living, breathing dragon!"

"It was 'da brea'ding part 'dat was so frightening," Hulda replied.

Riandr finally processed the information. "And this Dragonborn? What of her?"

"Well," Hulda spoke softly as if passing on a Hold secret. "It seems 'da legend is true. 'da word around town is the presence of dragons signals 'da end of days and 'da return of Alduin, World-eater. 'da Dragonborn is here to stop him."

Riandr's eyes narrowed. "How?"

Hulda shrugged. "I don't know. But I tell you 'dis, 'da Greybeards called to her. Soon as she ate 'dat dragon's soul, 'dey cried out from 'da top of 'da Throat of 'da World. _Dovakiin_!"

"Dovakiin?"

"Uh huh." Hulda nodded. "'da word echoed across 'da city and 'da country side. It was a little scary… but impressive." Hulda grabbed a cloth and began wiping down the bar.

"What happened next, Hulda?" Fil wanted to wring the information out of her pretty throat.

"Well, 'da woman went to see 'da Jarl and 'da next 'ding you know she was made a 'dane. She bought a house, 'da old Breezehome, got herself a Housecarl and 'den promptly left town."

Fil looked crest fallen. "Damn."

Riandr glanced at her brother, her instincts screaming at her to dismiss the entire story. Dragons? Dragonborn? How could any of this be true? However she had always depended on Hulda to give her the rundown on what was happening in Whiterun and she had never lied to her before. "Who was killed?" She knew the guards. Had to. It was her business to know who might come after her.

"T'arda and Hieli."

"Hieli?"

"Yes," Hulda chuckled. "You knew him. Was always boring you wid' stories of his adventuring. Did pretty well too, until he took an arrow in 'da knee." She paused in her wiping, "I guess guard duty was not a good substitute for adventuring. I wonder if his knee gave out…"

Fil glanced at Riandr and then at the boy. Her eye's narrowed as she pondered his suggestion. There may be a connection between the boy, the dragon and the Dragonborn. However at the moment they had nothing to connect them other than timing. For now she would proceed as if there were none. Taking a sip of her mead she suddenly realized there was a terrible pounding behind her eyes. With a sigh she said, "I think I may retire, Hulda. I am well past the point of exhaustion."

"Oh of course you are, darlin'. Head right upstairs, your rooms are at 'da top." Hulda hugged her friend. "You travel too much. When are you going to settle down, buy 'dis inn from me and let me retire while I'm young enough to enjoy it?"

Riandr laughed. Run an inn? Somehow she did not see that in her near future. "I could never steal the inn away from Ysolda. She would kill me. But thank you for the rooms."

"My pleasure. Now go… off wid' you. Go rest your head. Gods know you look like draugr."

Riandr laughed. "Thanks again, friend!"

Hulda giggled and pushed her toward the back of the inn and the stairs to their rooms. She turned back to the bar giving Fil a long, lingering glance. She reached out and pulled the pint from his hands. "'dat's enough of 'dat swill," she murmured. Reaching for a goblet from beneath the bar, she filled it with a spicy dark red liquid.

Fil raised an eyebrow. "What's this?"

"Jazbay wine. Very rare. Very potent. Like liquid fire and ice."

Fil took a sip of the wine, feeling it burn a path down his throat, then swiftly change, leaving a surprising chill. He grinned at Hulda. "Very nice."

Hulda returned his smile. "Now tell me what you've been up to, mage." Fil happily began to recount his most recent adventures in Riften and Hulda leaned forward intently. She could barely tolerate magic or mages, but there was something about this man that made her knees weak. Perhaps it was his quick mind, or his thirst for adventure. Gods knew she loved to hear him talk about the places he'd been, the things he'd seen. She never got to leave the damn tavern!

Whatever the reason, Fil was not a man she could ignore. Grabbing a glass she poured herself a bit of wine. She knew there was nothing the mage liked more than to talk about himself and with her training in the Dibellaian's arts, the Jazbay wine, she was very hopeful that she would have a warm bedmate for the night. If there was one thing she knew the mage could do, it was warm a woman's bed. Hulda smiled and made a sound of wonder at his story, then filled his glass again, her eyes never leaving his.

Riandr threw herself onto the bed, exhaustion taking her. Images of T'chall filled her thoughts, mixed with draugr, bandits and Gaunerians. The last few days had been filled with more stress and pain than she could handle. Sleep would be a blessed respite from the torment of her thoughts.

The Thieves Guild had trained her to push unwelcome and distracting thoughts aside. The Brotherhood had helped her perfect the art. But she could not push aside forever her growing concern over her actions and her belief that what the Nightmother asked her to do was somehow wrong. Both the annihilation of the Brotherhood and helping this boy, this possible godling in his quest, weighed on her. There was a part of her that she could not quiet, could not still; that screamed at her to stop. But to stop meant to betray the Nightmother and to not, was to ignore her own instincts. In the end she knew she must betray one of them, either the Nightmother or herself. She was simply too tired to make that decision tonight.


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

She woke early, before the others, and decided to reacquaint herself with Whiterun. The city was quiet in the predawn darkness. Only a few guards walked the streets, the light from their torches loudly proclaiming their presence. She circumvented them, not wishing to deal with their insufferable questioning. The back streets were dark, the morning's grey allowing her to move unnoticed. She passed by Olava's house making a mental note to visit the aged and revered member of the guild before she left town. Olava had thankfully not been on the Nightmother's list of members she needed to assassinate. That mark would have been the most difficult of all. Olava had the gift of foresight. Assassinating someone who had the gift of seeing into the future might prove to be too difficult, even for her. Besides, she genuinely liked the old lady.

She found herself near the guard's post and decided to climb the steps to the top of the wall that surrounded the city. From this vantage point she could see most of the surrounding countryside. The western watchtower rose like a black mark against the dawn's early glow. It was too distant for her to tell if any residual damage might exist from the dragon's attack, but was close enough to the city for Riandr to cease breathing for a moment. In her mind's eye she saw the dragon fly low over the rooftops, the screams of the people as they raced for cover filling her thoughts. She imagined the guard, forming a party by the city gates. Felt their fear and conviction, and watched them race out to fight a foe a hundred times their size, more powerful than any opponent they had ever faced before. Able to fly, breathe fire or swallow them in a single vicious snap of its jaws. She could imagine how they must have felt, each step taking them closer to their death. She may have no love for the guard, but she could not fault their bravery.

Her thoughts drifted to the woman. The Dragonborn as Hulda had called her. Legend said that to be Dragonborn was to be born half dragon or some such nonsense. Hulda had said that the woman had not even known she was Dragonborn until the beast lay dead and she absorbed it's… it's what? Riandr wracked her brains, trying to remember the tales. It's power? It's soul? She sighed in frustration. The legend had held no interest for her, superstition and old Nord's tales. She had given them no mind. Now she kicked herself for her arrogance.

She sensed the man's approach long before he spoke.

"Hello, Ri." He stood a few feet behind her, his voice soft, his tone affectionate.

She grinned into the darkness and without turning replied, "Hello, Mo'ran."

His soft laugh raced across her spine. As with all Khajiit, the cat people of Elsweyr, Mo'randru-jo had a way of speaking that made it feel as if he ran a warm fur across her naked body. "You haven't lost your edge I see. Good to know." In one graceful movement he crossed the distance between them and stood beside her. "What brings you to Whiterun, guild sister?"

Riandr sighed. Most of the members of the Thieves Guild still considered her their sister. The fact that she had left the guild more than fives years before did not seem to concern them. Once a guild member, always a guild member. Glancing at Mo'ran she was not surprised to see he was still an impressive sight. He stood a good head taller than her. He wore tight black leather britches with a hardened black leather cuirass protecting his chest. Black leather boots and gloves completed his outfit with the spotted brown, black and white of his fur showing only on his face and the ever-present tail. Riandr thought she had not seen anyone so handsome in some time.

She tried to form a response to his question. "Just passing through. And you? Is the caravan here?" She glanced toward the city's entrance.

"Hmmm… yes. On our way to Markarth." Mo'randru-jo's tawny eyes moved down and back up the length of her. "You are looking… quite edible, sister."

The smile on his face left no doubt in her mind what he meant by edible. She laughed despite her best effort not to. "Is there always one thing on your mind, Mo'ran?"

His gaze was like fire on her skin. "When you are around, sister. Yes."

She found herself staring into his golden eyes, transfixed by their fire and the gentle way the Khajiit had of rolling their 'r's' making every word pulse with sensuality. With great effort she pulled her attention from his eyes and glanced back toward the western tower. Mo'ran followed her gaze and sighed. "You have heard the stories? Dragons roam Tamriel."

She nodded. "I can not deny I find it hard to believe. Dragons? Dragonborn?"

Mo'ran nodded. "This one found it hard to believe as well. First there were tales, from all territories in Skyrim. Dragons. Some breathe fire, some ice. All fly and destroy. Then, near Windhelm, Mo'randru-jo saw two of the beasts for himself."

She turned back toward him then, her eyes wide. "You saw two?"

The Khajiit nodded. "The caravan of Ri'saad traveled to Windhelm, to meet with the caravan of Ahkari, perhaps visit Kynesgrove to obtain ore from the mines. But as we approached the city to camp outside its confines, a great cry arose. Villagers came racing down the path from Kynesgrove crying out, dragon! A dragon, this one thought? What madness is this? Then, as surely as Mo'ran sees you standing here, a dragon appeared above the tree tops over Kynesgrove. The beast moved it wings much like the pump of the bellows, great gusts of wind shaking the ground on which Mo'ran stood. The beast rose high into the air and then with a great cry flew off into the distance."

"But there was another?"

Mo'randru-jo nodded. "One dragon was enough to frighten this one into stone. But then suddenly there was another great cry and a second dragon rose above the tree tops. His bellow shook the earth beneath this one's feet. Mo'ran thought it might turn and descend upon the caravan. But suddenly it roared as a great burst of light hit it from below. The beast must have dropped to the ground then for Mo'ran could not see it above the tree tops again. What could be seen were great bursts of light and fire in the sky. What could be felt was the earth trembling beneath this one's feet. A great battle surely took place in the copse above Kynesgrove."

Riandr stared wide eyed at her friend. Two dragons? What was happening? How could this be possible? "And then?"

Mo'ran shrugged as only a Khajiit could. "The caravan did not wait around to be eaten. We packed quickly and headed west, to make our way here and then on to Markarth. What this one has heard though is it was the Dragonborn at Kynesgrove that day. It was she who tossed flame into the air, she who defeated the dragon."

"Dragonborn…" Riandr said the name again in wonder.

"Hmmm…" Mo'ran kept his gaze on the countryside as it slowly came alive in the growing morning light.

Her thoughts absorbed by the Dragonborn she did not feel Mo'ran's tail wrap around her waist until he used it to pull her to him. She felt the warmth of his body through his leather armor, the hardness of his chest and thighs against hers.

"Enough talk of dragons, Ri. This one bores of the topic." Mo'ran leaned in, whispering in her ear. "Let this one instead turn your thoughts to those of pleasure." He almost purred the words into her ear and she found it hard to focus.

"Mo'ran, I have to get back…" Riandr wondered if anyone would miss her if she were to disappear for an hour or so.

"What could not wait? Surely there is nothing more important?" His hands encircled her waist, pressing her even tighter against him. "This one has long missed your company and would like to show you just how much."

Riandr could feel a soft growl start in the back of her throat. It had been quite some time since she had known Mo'ran's gifted touch. Who would even notice she was gone?

Fil's excited cry made her grimace. "Mo'ran? Mo'ran it is you! By the gods you look well!"

Mo'ran laughed quietly against her throat and raising his head called out, "Fil, good friend! How are you?" He separated from Riandr slowly, reluctantly. His tail still wrapped possessively around her waist.

"I am well enough I suppose. Considering what we've been through lately. I assume Ri has been filling you in on our adventures?"

Mo'randru-jo's smile held a hint of wickedness. "Yes. That is exactly what Ri was doing."

Fil reached them, slightly out of breath. "And then there's all this talk of dragons. I thought I'd come out and see what the western tower looked like. And here I find you two! Is the caravan here? I would love to see Ri'saad. I have a few things I'd like to get a price on."

"Yes." Mo'ran nodded. "Ri'saad is here. He waits outside the gates as usual."

"Wonderful! I'll follow you back. You can tell me all the news from the road."

When Riandr made as if to protest Fil turned to her, his look apologetic, "Sorry, sis. _He_ is looking for you."

Riandr's protest died in her throat. She glanced at Mo'ran, a sad smile on her lips. "See you again soon, Mo'ran?"

He slowly unwrapped his tail from her waist, took her hand in his and kissed her palm. "This one will desperately hope for it. Be safe, guild sister."

"You as well, guild brother." Riandr watched the Khajiit turn and drop from the wall's edge as if it were a few feet to the ground below and not over twenty.

Fil grinned then mumbled, "Show off." He flicked his hand and a soft pink glow covered his feet. With a grimace, he stepped off the wall's edge and slowly floated to the ground.

She could hear Mo'ran's laughter echo off the city's walls as he and her brother headed toward the city gates and the Khajiit caravan. Turning her attention toward the city's interior she could see the streets begin to team with life. She watched the townspeople slowly start their day, the market vendors worked their way up the main street, the guards changed their shifts. Her thoughts turned to the boy and what he would ask of her next.

She leaped off the wall to the roof of the guard house, and then dropped like a Khajiit to the street below. Mila, Carlotta's little girl raced passed her calling out a quick "Hello!" before racing on. Adrianne was just heading to the forge and Riandr thought now might be a good time to fix the edge on her blades.

"Hello, friend," she greeted the blacksmith warmly.

"Riandr! How are you?" Adrianne pulled her into a rough hug. "You look amazing as always. What brings you to Whiterun this time?"

"A client. A treasure seeker… of sorts." This seemed the best cover for what they did. After all the boy was a treasure seeker, even if his ultimate goal was still a mystery.

"Ah, and better protection they could not have asked for! Well I've got some good pieces out here if you're looking to buy, more inside! Is Fil with you?"

Riandr nodded. "Yes. He just went to chat with the caravan. You know Fil. He has pockets full of trinkets of no value that he can't wait to get rid of."

Adrianne laughed. "Is he still mad at me for not buying that necklace of his? The workmanship was simply horrible!"

It was Riandr's turn to laugh. "Well neither you nor I could convince him of that. I think he eventually sold it to a tavern owner in Rorikstead. Told him it was enchanted with a love spell or something."

"Oh dear…" Adrianne shook her head. "It would have to be for any woman to want to wear that gods awful thing!"

"Anything new in town? Aside from dragons." Adrianne's father was steward to the Jarl of Whiterun. The blacksmith was, with a little prodding, often willing to share information she gleaned from him. Sadly her father did not heed her warnings as often as he should. Adrianne had an intuitive understanding of the Nords that her father Proventus did not share. Riandr had always felt Adrianne would serve better as steward than her more provincial Cyrodiilic father. However she would never say anything against the man, Adrianne was too proud of him.

"Hmmm… well," Adrianne looked pensive, "that stupid feud between the Battle-Borns and Gray-Manes continues. Its growing worse I think, what with the civil war brewing."

Riandr sighed. "I'm sure Idolaf is stirring the embers every chance he gets."

Adrianne growled softly. "That man is a menace. He takes every chance he can to degrade and belittle the Gray-Mane family. Especially Fralia. How can a grown man look himself in the mirror when he picks on an old woman like that?"

"He's an ass. No… he's a skeever!" Riandr wished she could run a sharpened blade across the man's throat. Not kill him, simply prevent him from making another sound. Ever.

"You know I help my father in more ways than people realize. I've tried to warn him, help him understand how desperate the tension is between the two families. The Jarl must be made aware of the unrest here in his own city! But between you and me," she leaned in close, almost whispering, "I think the Jarl has already committed himself to the Empire. He cannot act against the Gray-Mane's for supporting Ulfric; however he will not aid them against the Battle-Borns either."

Riandr sighed in frustration. "It will come to bloodshed at some point. You and I both know Idolaf is too hot headed for it not to. His father is an arrogant fool as well." He was a fool who liked no better than to talk about the honor of his family and of course, his wealth. She had been more than glad to relieve him of a portion of that wealth on many occasions.

Adrianne sighed. "I do what I can in advising my father. Meanwhile Idolaf has me making weapons for the Empire day and night."

"I can't imagine Earlund would make any for them."

Adrianne shook her head. "Absolutely not. Besides being the best blacksmith in Skyrim, he is Nord, through and through. Considerably worse however is the rumor that Earlund and Fralia's son Thorald, is either dead or being held hostage. Fralia is sure he is alive, but well…"

"Who might have him? The Empire?" Riandr asked.

Adrianne shook her head. "The Thalmor."

Riandr froze. The Thalmor. She felt the rage sweep through her as it always did at the mention of them. Ice cold rage. Red hot rage. The Thalmor were a select group of High Elves from the Aldmeri Dominion who had almost decimated Tamriel in the Great War. When the Emperor signed the White-Gold Concordant, the hope was the war would end and the Thalmor would retreat to their lands, leaving the Empire in peace to rebuild. But that had not happened. Anyone who roamed the roads or forests of Skyrim knew the Thalmor were still here, still entrenched in Skyrim. And they were growing stronger. They roamed the land freely, assaulting, capturing and killing the rightful citizens of Skyrim. The White-Gold Concordant took away Skyrim's right to worship whom they chose and gave the Thalmor legal recourse to enforce the death penalty if any were found worshiping Talos. The Thalmor did not waste time with evidence or trials. They simply took the accused away, dead of night or bright daylight. Never to be seen again. The Empire looked the other way when these atrocities were reported, too afraid of the Thalmor to protect its own citizens. So Riandr had, quite happily, sent more than a few of the Thalmor Justiciar to Sithis' waiting arms.

"Has Avulstein gone to look for him?" Riandr was certain Thorald's brother would spare neither Man nor Mer in his search for his brother.

Adrianne shook her head. "No. I don't believe Earlund and Fralia could have withstood losing both their sons. They've sent someone else. I don't know who. Fralia is beside herself with worry, poor thing."

"What of the companions? Are they helping? You would think saving the son of their blacksmith would be a priority." Riandr growled, her frustration evident.

"I'm not sure. It's possible the agent they sent was a companion. Again," Adrianne whispered, "it is disturbing that the Jarl is also not assisting. I think the fact that he is willing to possibly alienate the Companions by ignoring their blacksmith's suffering is indicative of what side he supports in this damnable war."

"What a mess," Riandr said softly. "Poor Fralia. Well, at least he lives."

Adrianne shrugged. "Let's hope so," she let out a sad sigh. "In any event, what do you need from me today, my friend?"

Riandr grinned. "I was hoping to give the blades a little edge. They have been working hard as of late and I am afraid I have not given them the love and attention they deserve."

The blacksmith laughed. "Naughty girl. Well, have at it! You know your way around a forge as well as I do. Let me know if you need anything, just got a new shipment of ebony in. Quite beautiful ingots. Top quality."

"Thank you, Adri."

"I'm just going to pop in and check on my husband. You know how he loves to lean on the counter and stare at nothing." Adrianne grinned. Ulfberth was a big bear of a man who worshiped the ground his wife walked on. "Don't forget to check inside if you need anything."

Riandr moved to the grindstone, intent on lightly touching up the blade's edges. Silence was as usual, almost perfect. The enchanted blade never lost its edge, staying always viciously sharp. The Elven blade was another matter. She leaned over the grindstone, gently working the dagger's edge against the stone. As the stone and blade began their delicate dance her thoughts drifted again to the boy. It was clear he would want to continue in his pursuit of these… shards. The pieces they found had completed that Nord puzzle on the floor and allowed their escape but she knew that was not their only function. How many pieces were there? When all were found and assembled what did they form? Weapon? Armor? Were they for worship? Whatever it was it had to be incredibly powerful. The Gaunerians they fought had valued them greatly. And if she helped the boy find all the shards, would he use the completed object to benefit Tamriel? Or destroy it?

She pulled the blade from the grindstone and tested its edge. Perfect. Smiling she thought, 'No tavern for me. If I ever did settle down, I would own a forge. Craft only faultless pieces. Blades of perfection.' She sheathed the Elven blade then, placing two septum on the armor bench. Adrianne would never take a coin from her, so she usually left her something to find after she'd gone.

Moving swiftly down the now crowded street she avoided being drawn into conversation. She had delayed returning to the boy long enough. The last thing she wanted to do was anger the client.

The tavern was dark compared to the bright morning sunlight. Camber and Gian were seated at their table in the corner. She waved to Hulda and then took a seat next to the boy.

"Morning," Gian offered cheerfully between bites of sweetroll.

"Good morning," Riandr replied.

The boy did not look up from his bowl of grain. "I will need to hasten our search for the remaining pieces. You, the mage and the warrior will continue on to Falkreath. Gian and I will meet you there in three weeks time."

Riandr nodded. She had a hundred questions she wanted to ask, but held her tongue. The boy would give her whatever information he felt she needed. No more. Asking would only make her look foolish.

"You will wait for us at Dead Man's Drink."

"Understood."

"You'll be alright, won't you?" Gian asked. Riandr caught herself smiling at the girl's concern. Between Fil's magics, Myllian' steel and her skills, she was certain they would be fine.

"Do not worry. We will see you in Falkreath in three weeks." She nodded to them both and worked her way over to Hulda.

"You heading out already?" Hulda looked disappointed.

"Yes. Sorry, my friend. We will grab supplies then be on our way." At Hulda's sigh Riandr grinned, taking pity on her friend she asked, "Shall I give you and Fil an hour or so before I drag him away?"

Hulda blushed and then grinned. "You'd be a real friend 'ifen you did."

Riandr laughed and then paused, the image of a well built Khajiit filling her thoughts. She glanced around the room, suddenly realizing Myllian was not at her post by the door.

As if reading her thoughts Hulda said, "Your Redguard friend left wid' Saadia about an hour ago. 'dey went to buy 'da ingredients for tonight's stew. Now 'dat I 'dink about it, 'dey been gone a while."

Riandr's eyes narrowed. If the warrior had gotten herself mixed up in something that delayed their departure, she would not be pleased. The door to the tavern burst open and Fil's laughter filled the hall. Myllian and Saadia followed him.

"I'm not lying! I promise! The troll was seven feet tall if an inch. He flopped over the firepit, his ass cheeks pointing straight up, each cheek filled to the brim with arrows. I'd never seen anything so funny. However, once the corpse started to burn, well… I can't even begin to describe the smell. Foul just doesn't cover it."

Saadia wrinkled her nose. "Please don't try."

"All right then I won't." Fil grinned. He glanced over to the table in the corner which was now vacant and then to Riandr. "So, where are we off to now?"

"We head to Falkreath and wait there."

"We?" Myllian asked. "The three of us?"

Riandr nodded.

"Who will protect the boy?" Myllian was torn. She hated the babysitting, but also knew she wouldn't get paid if the boy perished.

Riandr shrugged. "He appears to be confident that they will be safe wherever they are going. We are to meet them in Falkreath in three weeks."

Myllian whistled. "Well, that gives us a bit of time."

Hulda stepped from behind the counter. "Saadia. Watch 'da bar for me, will you. I'll be back in about an hour."

Saadia gave her a puzzled look. "But… why?"

Hulda reached out and grabbed Fil's hand, pulling him in the direction of her room.

"Oh…" Saadia giggled. "Hulda is going to be in a very good mood for the rest of the week." She turned to Riandr. "You will thank the mage for me, wont you?"

Riandr shook her head. "It would only serve to feed his ego. Which is far too large as it is. Myllian…"

The warrior turned her gaze from the bard to Riandr. "Yes?"

"I'm going to check the caravan. See if there's anything I need. I'll be back in an hour or so." She tried to keep the excitement out of her voice.

"All right. I'll help Saadia. Wait here for you and Fil." Myllian couldn't help the smile that played with her lips.

"I will be back soon." Riandr moved swiftly towards the door. She could only hope the caravan was still camped outside town and Mo'randru-jo still willing. The thought made her laugh. He was Khajiit. Khajiit were notorious for being 'willing' and for that, Riandr was quite grateful.


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

They left Whiterun closer to evening tide than she would have liked. However, Riandr smiled happily, she could not regret the reason for the delay. They had purchased what supplies they needed in town and Fil had made a handsome bit of gold trading with Ri'saad, the caravan leader. As they strolled westward, into the setting sun she found herself glancing east, toward the range the Nords had dubbed the 'Throat of the World'. The largest mountain in Skyrim its rocky crags towered over the land and could be seen from as far away as Markarth and Falkreath. The Greybeards, mysterious and isolated monks lived in a stronghold on her summit. The monks were masters of what the Nords called the 'Thu'um'. Fil had explained the Thu'um as the ability to focus all of one's magicka into a single word of power. These words of power, or 'shouts', had been created by the Dragons at the dawn of time, were immensely powerful and often deadly. It was these men who had called to the woman, the supposed Dragonborn.

Though what they wanted with her was anyone's guess, she would be a fool not to connect the appearance of the dragons, the Dragonborn and the monk's skills. If the legends held true, dragons would now terrorize the land. From what Mo'ran said they already were. So much so that Ri'saad contemplated leaving Skyrim.

Her conversation with Ri'saad still echoed in her thoughts, his concern for his people's safety and the arrival of the dragons was clear. His happiness at making a decent profit during Skyrim's troubles had also been clear. Still, she could not fault him for that. His people took a great deal of risk, traveling as they did, in order to offer goods throughout Skyrim. She could also not hide her grin at the unusual way the Khajiit trader had of phrasing things.

"Do you intend to stay in Skyrim, with the arrival of the dragons?" she had asked.

"The longer we travel the lands of Skyrim, the more empty this land seems." Ri'saad had said sadly. "But here is where the trade is. Much opportunity in Skyrim to make coin. However I miss the warm sands of my home."

"Skyrim must be so different from your land," she had agreed.

"The warm sand of Elsweyr is far away from here. Bordered on the north by Cyrodiil and the south by the glistening blue waters of the sea. Elsweyr is an arid land of deserts and rocky canyons where the sun shines warmly, always. There are cities so ancient that the sands have swallowed them whole. But now I will say no more, for I miss my home greatly."

She had glanced at Mo'ran, worried again for his safety. "But the caravan is so exposed, so vulnerable. What if a dragon attacks?"

The Khajiit had shrugged. "I hope we do not encounter one of those on the road. But, I suppose if we do we will find out just how fast each of us can run."

"Do not fret, Ri. This one does not need to out run a dragon," Mo'ran had added with a wicked laugh, "only the others in the caravan."

His pure Khajiit grin had made her laugh. They were such a warm people. Full of life, as quick to love as to fight. Curious about everything around them and willing to learn from any culture while still holding steadfast to their homeland of Elsweyr. She pondered a lifetime of traveling Skyrim with Mo'ran, moving with the caravan, selling goods, seeing the entire scope of the land and then, one day, head to his distant home. She imagined feeling the warm sands beneath her feet, the hot sun on her shoulders. It felt like an age since she had felt the warmth of the sun. Skyrim almost never felt warm, never completely melting from the ice of winter. That was probably one of the reasons the Nords were such a large and hardy people. It was too bad their hearts were often as frozen toward outsiders as their land.

She, Fil and Myllian followed the road west, past the watchtower. They took a moment to inspect the damage. It was hard to distinguish what harm the dragon might have caused from how poorly the tower had been maintained. Rising thirty feet into the air, it was an impressive site, but was surrounded by crumbling stone and mortar. The ground surrounding the tower was the most disturbing. It had obviously been severely scorched and she could just make out the outline of a body in one of the burnt areas. It was an unsettling image.

Myllian glanced around the tower. "No body? I would think a dragon of that size would leave a corpse of some kind."

Fil nodded. "Probably picked clean. I know I'd give my right arm for a dragon bone or some scales or dragon blood."

Riandr nodded. Dragon bones and scales would certainly make some impressive armor. Getting her hands on enough to work the forge with was an exciting thought.

They continue to follow the road as the setting sun slowly dipped behind the western mountains. Not far from the tower they passed a burnt down farm house. The flames long since doused, the empty shell sat close to the road, a sad testament to the dragon's power. Fil's small grunt of excitement was quickly followed by his detouring into the smoldering remains, taking a moment to scrounge through the wreckage. Riandr growled softly and continued on, ignoring him. Myllian walked with her, laughing softly to herself.

He hastily explored the wreckage, discovering a chest hidden beneath a few intact floorboards. After pocketing a few septims and a new iron dagger he raced to join his sister and Myllian.

"Thanks for waiting," he grumbled.

Riandr sighed. "I will not wander off to explore every burnt down wreck we pass. We do need to be in Falkreath in three weeks time, not three months."

"What kind of a thief are you? I'm always the one searching through chests, rummaging through packs. You just stand by looking pompous." Fil could not help being angry at his sister's total disregard for plunder.

"Standing around? Standing around?" Riandr almost yelled. "Who is the one disarming the traps? Who is the one saving your hide from poisonous darts? Bursts of flame? Trap doors dropping to jagged spikes? Standing around?"

Fil grudgingly admitted, "Well you… but your skills…"

"Don't 'your skills' me, little brother. I have saved your hide more times than either of us can count. I am _not_ going to stand here and let you…"

"_Ah ha_!" Myllian shouted.

They both turned toward her, startled.

"Brother and sister! I knew it!"

Riandr and Fil exchanged a glance and then grinned.

"Well, you blew that one, big sis," Fil teased.

Riandr punched him in the shoulder in response.

"We had a bet. Gian and I. She thought you were former lovers."

"Eewww…" Riandr grimaced.

Fil laughed. "And?"

Myllian continued on the road, explaining as she went. "Well it was obvious you two knew each other. You finish each others sentences. You fight almost as one. You often communicate without even speaking. But whether that was from working together in the past or something more I wasn't certain."

"What gave us away?"

"Your faces. Your expressions. You do look very similar. But, that might have been simply because you both hale from Cyrodiil. Imperials often look alike to me. However you make similar expressions when you are angry or curious or you smell something foul."

Riandr and Fil glanced at each other. It wasn't the first time someone had mentioned to them how much alike they were.

"And," Myllian continued, "you both look at each other with… considerable affection. Much more than any past lover might. There is a bond between the two of you that is more than lover, more than friend. It had to be family."

Riandr grinned. "Much as I might want to disown him at times."

"Unkind! True, but unkind!" Fil grumbled.

"Then at the tavern, when you offered Fil time with Hulda. That cinched it. No ex lover would make such an offer."

Fil laughed. "And I do appreciate that, sister."

"You are indeed welcome, brother."

"Who is the elder?" Myllian asked.

"I am," Riandr replied. "By a moment or two."

"Ah, twins!"

"Yes, but she is older…" Fil teased.

"Troll." Riandr punched him in the shoulder again.

"Ouch…" he rubbed the spot. "You're too strong for your own good."

"You would do well to remember that, little brother," Riandr said, grinning wickedly.

As they came abreast of Fort Greymoor, the road forked. One path headed south, the other headed north, towards Morthal and Solitude. They took the southern route, towards Falkreath. As they passed the fort they could just make out sentries on the battlements, the dying sunlight almost masking their presence. They could hear the fort soldier's laughter, the clang of metal against metal and the soft sound of horses neighing contently.

"The empire seems to have control of Greymoor at the moment," Riandr mused.

"That damn fort changes hands so often it could give a man whiplash," Fil said wryly. "Want to go, 'check it out', sis?"

Riandr shook her head. "Even you are not so stupid as to take on an entire garrison." From the corner of her eye she saw Myllian reaching for her axe. The look she gave the warrior questioned her senses.

"What? Oh…" Myllian shrugged. "I thought he was serious."

"_He_ was." Riandr sighed and risked a glance at Fil. He was obviously pouting. "What valuable items do you believe Imperial soldiers have? You know what the Empire pays them. It's barely enough to feed their families."

Fil didn't respond, merely kept his gaze forward.

They walked in complete silence for a while until finally Riandr spoke. Her tone was reluctant, knowing her brother was manipulating her and yet unable to endure his silences, "Fine, fine. The next tomb we come across we can go scavenging. Will that satisfy you?"

Fil grinned triumphantly. His sister had never been able to withstand his silent treatment. "Yes. That will do nicely. Besides, we could have stolen their mounts. I don't relish this week long hike."

Riandr sighed often infuriated by Fil's laziness and his lust for treasure. One day it was going to get them killed.

"You never were very good at it," Fil mumbled.

"Good at what?"

"Stealing. Looting. Your heart was never in it."

"What are you talking about? It was too! I just… just," Riandr's voice trailed off as she contemplated his words. Why did she hesitate so often when Fil would simply act?

"You're too emotional about it," Fil said.

"Emotional?" Riandr gave him a look that suggested a punch in the shoulder would be next on her 'list of things to do'.

"About the marks. It's why you never took random jobs from Devlin. You're a good thief, sis. Better than most. But you have a conscience. You've never stolen from someone who couldn't afford it."

Riandr made as if to protest and then stopped. It was true. They had grown up alone and poor. Begging for bread to eat, stealing it when they could. She knew what it was like to be without, to be hungry and homeless. She refused to steal from anyone who might go hungry due to her actions.

"I respect that you know. I respect that about you," Fil stumbled over his words, trying to let her know how he felt, without embarrassing her. He was well aware of how easily his sister became embarrassed.

"Oh…" Riandr stared at the growing light of the stars and without looking at him softly replied, "thank you, Fil."

Fil stared at the sky as well. "You're welcome."

They grew silent for a while as they strolled down the road. Each of them caught up in their own thoughts. A farmer passed them on the road, heading toward Whiterun. He was followed by a painted cow, an offering for the local giants. Riandr wondered how the Nords had become such a superstitious lot, offerings to the gods, offerings to the giants. It seemed like such an unnecessary gamble when a sharp blade could prove so much more effective.

They hadn't traveled more than a hundred paces past the farmer when they heard an explosion followed by a scream.

"Help!"

As one they turned to find the farmer and his cow being approached by a fire atronach. Her body ablaze; glowing in the dark like a small sun, she floated in the air not ten feet from the farmer, her attention on the painted cow.

"By the gods where did the Daedra come from?" Fil whispered. He had an abrupt flashback to Xarthias, and the destruction his archway to Oblivion had caused, and for a moment he found himself frozen in fear. Then the Daedric creature raised her fiery hands and produced small balls of flame that stood out against the night sky like a hundred fires. Before the farmer could utter a second scream the three were already racing to his side.

Myllian headed straight for the fiery Daedra, her axe glittering in the beast's light. She couldn't help the rush of excitement that raced through her. She hadn't fought anything in days! 'Damn it's good to hold my axe!' she thought, her grin was almost blood thirsty.

Fil drew up next to the farmer, preparing a spell. 'A little Banish Daedra spell might work,' he thought and began to utter the spell, gathering his magicka, focusing his energy.

Riandr melted into the darkness, becoming one with it. Daedra did not appear in the middle of a meadow without a portal. Someone had summoned the beast and that someone was still hidden by the night. She crouched low, listening. Blocking out the sound of the battle was not difficult, but if the culprit was completely still, unmoving, then the only sound she might hear would be his labored breathing. Her gaze took in the battle scene and the landscape surrounding them. There was a boulder a few hundred feet off the road. Moss covered and misshapen, it was close enough for the mage to cast the spell, but far enough away to not be hurt by the demon's flames.

She worked her way swiftly toward the boulder. Her training and the night's darkness keeping her almost invisible as her senses strained to hear anything. It only took a moment for her to locate the mage. Hidden in the lee of the boulder he crouched, his focus on the battle. Silence almost leapt into her hand, the Elven blade followed. She moved silently into position behind him, her body racing with an excitement she couldn't explain.

The mage never registered her presence; neither sound nor scent gave her away. The man was quite shocked as she thrust both blades forward, into his vulnerable back. He died almost instantly. The familiar soft whoosh echoed off the stone behind her as his soul rose from his body, swirled around him in a soft lavender light, then was inexorably drawn into the black soul gem she carried.

Almost as an afterthought she pulled the mage's hood back. The dark skin and pointed ears came as a surprise. 'A Dark Elf. Interesting,' she thought. For her brother's sake she rummaged through the man's gown, searching for valuables. She found a few alchemical herbs, three rubies and two empty soul gems. She pocketed it all, planning on filling the soul gems for her brother at the first opportunity. He would use them for his spells, she to recharge her enchanted blade.

The farmer was thanking Fil and Myllian profusely when she joined them.

"Thank you again. I… I would have been killed!" The farmer was breathless and obviously shaken. "I'm taking the cow to the giants, as an offering. Some people don't believe it works, but it does for me. I haven't had any livestock killed by giants."

Riandr and Fil exchanged a glance. They both found it amusing how often Nords mistook coincidence for superstitious nonsense.

"I am glad we could help." Myllian shook the man's hand, her obvious thrill at the battle written on her face.

"Good luck with your… delivery," Fil added. They waved to the farmer and continued on their way. Fil waited until they were out of earshot before asking, "Mage?"

Riandr nodded. "Yes. Dark Elf. Oh here," she said and handed him the filled black soul gem.

"Perfect." Fil's eyes gleamed at his prize and placed the gem in his satchel. "That will certainly come in handy when we find ourselves a tomb to explore."

Myllian chuckled softly. Riandr rolled her eyes in frustration; however no one saw it in the darkness.

They traveled a few more hours, bantering softly in the bright starlight. Riandr wondered again at the beauty in Skyrim's night sky. She thought there must be millions of stars lighting the darkness, glittering like diamonds in the heavens. Nirn's two moons, Masser and Secunda glowed softly, following them, almost as if to light their path as they went. To their left rose the mountain range that housed Bleak Falls Barrow, another tomb of legend. They would have to work their way around that range to get to Falkreath. To their right was open country of rolling hills with stone, brush, mammoths and giants. Saber cats loved the open meadow as well, the brush offering the perfect cover for ambushing prey.

Riandr kept her eye on the tall grass, watching for cats while listening to Fil recount the story of their first trip into an Orcan stronghold. He was so caught up in his own telling of the tale he almost missed a gathering of stones that was obviously not a natural formation. It was nearly invisible in the dark, just a short distance off the path to their right.

Riandr groaned softly when he abruptly halted his story and pointing toward the structure exclaimed, "What's that?!"

At his insistence they worked their way down the path to the ruin. A large stone arch stood in the middle of the structure, surrounded by pillars of stones each adorned with an engraving. At the arch base was a smaller pillar with a handle in the center. Fil immediately reached for the handle.

"_Brother_!" Riandr growled. "It's a puzzle. Like everything Nord. If you pull that damn lever without deciphering the puzzle you will be fried or stabbed."

Fil removed his hand, sighing. "Why must they make everything so complicated?"

Riandr grinned. "So thieves do not carry away their ancestral treasures."

"Humph," Fil grumbled.

"Let it wait for morning, Fil. It will be easier to interpret these carvings in the daylight."

"All right, all right." Fil sighed. "Shall we make camp here then?"

Riandr and Myllian agreed. It seemed as good a place as any. They built a small fire just away from the ruin. Riandr offered to take first watch and Fil was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow of dried grass he had made. Myllian wasn't tired, deciding instead to sit near the fire, running the pumice stone over her blade.

The two women sat in silence for a while, each deep in her own thoughts. It was Myllian who broke the silence.

"Have you two always worked together?"

Riandr glanced at her sleeping brother. "In the beginning. All we had was each other. When I…" she glanced at the flames, "left… the Thieves Guild, we went our separate ways."

Myllian nodded. She had heard the boy call her assassin, had seen the woman's skills. They did not need to discuss where she had gone when she left the Thieves Guild. "Did he stay with the guild?"

Riandr nodded. "For a time. Fil saw the guild as a means to an end. An organization that could refine his skills and point him in the direction he wished to go."

"And that was?"

"Towards treasure, of course," Riandr said with a grin. "Eventually he left as well. Headed to the Mage's College in Winterhold. He studied there for a while."

Myllian watched the rise and fall of Fil's chest. "He's quite knowledgeable. Why didn't he stay there, at the college?"

"Because my brother is a wanderer, an adventurer at heart. He cannot stay in one place too long. It drives him mad. Well… not that anyone would notice."

Myllian laughed. "And you? Why did you leave the Thieves Guild?"

Riandr thought a moment. The easy answer was she heard a higher calling. The Dark Brotherhood had contacted her and she had been thrilled at the chance to join them, to find purpose for her dark gifts. But the truth was in fact, considerably more complicated, as truth often was.

Myllian watched Riandr's thoughts race across her face. "Ah… a man possibly?"

Riandr jumped as the Redguard's comment hit its mark. "No! Well, perhaps…"

Myllian nodded. "Not the Khajiit though."

Riandr shook her head. "No. Not Mo'ran."

"What happened?" Myllian kept her voice soft, inviting. She wondered if aside from her brother, this woman ever confided in another living soul. And for reasons Myllian could not explain she suddenly hoped this woman might trust her.

Riandr's thoughts drifted back to Riften, the guild, the Ragged Flagon and Brynjolf. He had been a gifted teacher, a talented thief and an… intense partner. His voice could move her like no other sound. They had worked so many jobs together, each time he would school her technique, fine hone her skills. Their passion after only made their bond stronger. She had grown to know and understand him so well she could read his thoughts as easily as she read Fil's. Together they were an unstoppable team. Then one day, it all changed.

"I think…" Riandr began. Myllian sat quietly, letting her work through her thoughts. "I think it was his obsession that ended us."

"Was he obsessed with you?"

Riandr's laugh was derisive. "No. With his work, with well… I think it may have been someone as well. But not like you think, not another…partner."

"Oh?"

"No. He was always obsessed with rebuilding the guild, returning it to its former glory. Then a woman came back into the guild. She was the former guild master's mistress and a formidable thief in her own right, who had been banished for some reason… I can not remember why." Riandr frowned. "However the present guild leader," she glanced at Myllian, "we will call him… Leay, betrayed the guild. That was when the woman was welcomed back."

Myllian glanced at the fire, then back at Riandr. "Was she to blame for his betrayal?"

"No… no." Riandr racked her memories, trying to get the story straight. "No. I think Leay was responsible for the death of the previous guild leader, the man she loved. In any case my friend's obsession with rebuilding the guild became bound up in finding Leay and making him pay for his betrayal. That was when his obsession changed, it consumed him. As this woman also held the same goals, well… they worked together, almost exclusively."

"Almost?"

"There was one other…" Riandr tried to put a face to the shadowy image she had of their companion, but found she could not.

"Was that when you… changed guilds?" Myllian found talking about the Dark Brotherhood without talking about the Dark Brotherhood difficult. She was not a woman who enjoyed subterfuge. A good axe to the skull was the best way to deal with any issue.

"Yes." Riandr stared into the flames. It had been five years since she had left the guild, left Brynjolf, and still it cut like a dagger through flesh.

"How did your friend take your leaving?"

Riandr shrugged. "I am not certain he even noticed. Towards the end of the relationship it seemed all he had time to say to me was _'Sorry lass. I've got important things ta' do. We'll speak another time.'_"

"Bastard," Myllian's tone was sympathetic.

Riandr nodded. She still wasn't sure just what had pulled him away from her, but she was certain it no longer mattered. Their paths were separate now and that would not change. No matter how much she might wish it. She glanced at the warrior. "You might want to get some sleep, Redguard. You have next watch." Riandr grinned hoping she didn't sound too harsh.

"Yes, boss." Myllian saluted her and then lay down a few feet from the fire, almost disappearing in the underbrush.

Riandr's gaze turned toward the darkness that surrounded them. This was saber cat land. It would not due to have her focus be on the past and miss the signs of death approaching in the present. All seemed quiet around them. The brush moved gently in the soft breeze, the pattern of movement steady, consistent. No large predators lurking in the brush, halting it's gentle sway with the bulk of the animal's body. She stood and walked in a slow circle around the camp, her thoughts drifting back to the present. She caught herself glancing more than once at the Nordic ruins next to them. There was certainly a puzzle to solve and she had to admit, she did love solving them. She felt a certain rush of pride each time she bested these ancient Nords. Fil did it for gain, but she did it entirely out of pride. It was the challenge that called to her, gave her the thrill. Probably the same reason picking a lock was so exciting to her.

The puzzle would wait for morning though. Not only would she not risk the others by forsaking her guard duty, but if she solved the puzzle without Fil? He would probably sulk for a week, and that was a torment she was not willing to risk. She took her seat by the fire, glancing at her brother's dark head. She would wait, if only to see his excited grin when he located whatever glittery baubles lay hidden within.


	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Fil was up before dawn as he had the last shift on watch. When she awoke, Riandr was surprised to find her brother had not ignored his sleeping companions and tried to solve the ruin's puzzle alone. Her expression must have said as much because he grunted angrily, "I like Myllian too much to let her be eaten by a saber cat."

Myllian laughed and mumbled, "As if that were possible."

Fil tossed Riandr a hunk of bread. "Hurry, eat this. I'm going to take a look at the carvings."

Riandr reached for the waterskin, taking a long drink. She stood and carried her bread with her to stand next to Fil. "What do you think?" she asked.

"Five pillars. Only one with a carving."

Riandr shook her head. "No. Three have carvings. Two of the carvings have fallen to the ground, see?" She pointed to where the faint image of a hawk could be seen on a rock face sticking out of the brush near a pillar.

"Well… that makes more sense." Fil moved around the small ruin. "Each of the pillars that had a carving on it has one of these in front of it." He pointed to a three sided pyramid shaped stone that held a copy of each image from the pillars. A hawk, a whale and a snake.

"Interesting," Riandr murmured as she finished the bread. She brushed the remaining crumbs from her hands and squatted down, inspecting one of the pyramid shapes. "Three choices, three pillars with carvings." She reached down and brushed aside the dirt and debris that cluttered the area at the base of the pyramid. "Look here, Fil!" She pointed excitedly at the pyramid's base.

Fil squatted next to her. "What is that?" Carved into the base of the stone was a dark triangular image. The apex of the triangle pointed directly at the stone.

"I think," Riandr grew excited, "that this is a marker. Telling us the face of the stone. Here, help me…" She put her shoulder against the stone and pushed against it. Fil reached over her shoulder to help.

"What are we doing?" he asked.

"Trying to turn the face. See?" The pyramid began to slowly rotate, grating loudly as it turned.

"Why are we doing this?"

"Because, little brother, we are trying to move the stone so the larger image that is on this pillar is the same image that the small triangle is pointing to on the pyramid."

"Oh… yes! I see!" Fil threw all his strength into it. "There. This is the hawk. Let's get the other two."

Myllian had already started on the pillar with the image of a whale. Her warrior physique needed no help to move the stone. Instead Fil went to the pillar with the image of a snake buried in the grass next to it. He pushed against the stone with his shoulder, grunting loudly. The pyramid barely moved. Riandr wanted to laugh but was afraid she would once again wound his pride, so instead she knelt down and added her strength to his. They turned the stone twice, until the image facing the small triangle was that of the snake.

Riandr and Fil glanced at each other and then at the handle near the arch. "Well?" She grinned.

Fil stood, brushing the dirt from his mage robes. He closed the distance between himself and the lever in two steps, his heart racing. It was usually at this point that his sister saved him from flames spurts or shards of ice. Riandr came to stand next to him, her eyes on the pillar and arch, searching for any signs of a trap. She shrugged. There was nothing apparent to her. Fil grinned, gathering his nerve.

Myllian stepped away from the ruin, onto the brush. She had a strange feeling Fil was a bit cursed when it came to traps. From their experience in Xarthias he seemed to inadvertently spring a lot of them.

Fil grinned and then winked at Myllian. He reached forward, his hand gripping the handle, counted to three and then turned. At first it seemed as if nothing happened. No flame shot from the arch, no darts skewered him from the pillar. Then suddenly there was a loud creaking sound. The sound of ancient metal forced to move after a millennium of stillness.

"Hey, what the…" was all Myllian had time to say before the ground fell out beneath her.

"Myllian!" Fil cried. He and Riandr raced to where their friend had stood. Where a moment before there had been earth and brush there was now a perfectly circular hole in the ground. They both peered over the edge, fearing the worst, to find Myllian sprawled on a wooden spiral staircase, covered in dirt and brush. She glared at Fil.

"Myllian! I'm so glad you're not dead!" Fil tried not to laugh, but found it extremely difficult.

"You will pay for this, mage… in Talos' name I swear." Myllian stood, brushing clumps of dirt and brush from her armor.

Riandr glanced at her brother. "You know she will kill you for this."

Fil sighed without taking his eyes off of Myllian. "I know. But look at her." He shot a look at his sister and caught her trying to control her laughter. "See! Almost worth it, isn't it?"

"So, My…" Fil coughed to hide his amusement. "While you're down there, see anything?"

Myllian gave him a look that would stop a mammoth in its tracks and then she sighed and glanced over the stairs. "There is something. It looks big. Hold on…" she continued down the stairs and out of sight. "Oh! Oh. Oh…"

Fil tried to assess her comments. First was surprise. Second curiosity. Third sadness. He still had no clue. "What is it?" He grew frustrated when she did not immediately respond. "Never mind I'm coming down." He was over the edge and down the stairs before Riandr could form a protest.

He followed the staircase for only a moment before it came to an abrupt end. There was a small alcove with a large chest; a taut line of cord went from the chest's lid to the ground. Next to the chest was a skeleton, one of its boney hands on the lid, the other holding a small bottle.

"Sis. We may need you."

Myllian sighed. "I will stand watch above. You two can figure this out."

Fil nodded, not letting his attention wander from the chest. It only took a moment for Riandr to join him. Her reaction was similar to his and Myllian's. "How sad."

"Horrible actually. Do you think the chest holds treasure? Do you think he chose to guard it forever?" Fil bent down to examine the remains.

Riandr took a closer look at the chest, the rigid line of cord that ended in a small metal trap that was bolted to the stone floor. There were also bits of metal scattered about the lock and the vault floor. Without looking at him she replied, "No, Fil. I do not. I think he was a lot like you, however he did not have me to protect him."

Fil glanced at his sister, unable to argue with her. "Can you pick it?"

Riandr glanced at the trap and nodded. "Just give me a moment." She reached into a small pocket of her armor and produced a lock pick and her small tension wrench. She set to work, listening to the tiny bolts in the trap's spring. Her hands moved slowly, caressing the bolts, cajoling them, enticing them to open for her. The line gave way with a soft snap. She stood then, moving away from the chest. Her brother received such joy from opening a chest and pilfering its contents, almost as much as she did in disarming the trap. She would not rob him of that.

Fil eagerly lifted the lid of the chest, delving into its contents. He handed her a tome, two coin bags bursting with septims, a steel dagger and two vials. "Let's see," he shook the vials, staring at their contents. "Potion of healing, vigorous from the looks of it. And a potion of stamina. Very nice." He placed the vials in his bag, taking the tome from her. He ran his hand over the leather binding, lovingly tracing the runes on the face with his fingers. He opened the volume and grinning, whistled loudly. "'A Hypothetical Treachery'. I've always wanted to read this!"

Riandr tossed the sacs of coin up to Myllian and then turned to her brother. "You ready?"

Fil reached for the vial the skeleton held in its hand, examining the bottle. "Empty."

Riandr motioned toward the stairs. Fil followed her, wondering aloud, "Why was he here? What was he doing?"

Riandr sighed. "My guess? He was like you, little brother. A keen treasure seeker. He solved the exterior puzzle and gained entrance to the vault. Did you notice the broken lock picks scattered around the room?"

Fil shook his head. How had he missed those?

"I think our friend failed to pick the trap, triggering it instead. The gates above him closed, locking him in. After a moment or two the puzzle reset. Our friend meanwhile was trapped below. He must have tried again and again to disarm the trap, using every pick he had. But the gate remained shut. He could not escape. If our friend was a hopeful sort, then that vial contained healing potion. He would probably take a sip every few days, to stay alive, praying that someone would pass by and with his help, solve the puzzle and free him."

Fil paused on the stairs, staring at the skeleton. "And if he wasn't hopeful?"

"Then poison," she replied. "Enough to end his life quickly when he knew all was lost."

Fil stared at the bones a moment longer and then shuddered. He turned away and moved swiftly up the last few steps. He caught up with Riandr as she passed through the ruins toward camp. "I am glad I have you, sister," Fil murmured.

Riandr looked at Fil and replied, "And I you, brother." And for a moment they were ten years old again, living on the streets of Riften, with nothing to count on but each other.

They found Myllian dumping sand on the last of the fire's embers. "Ready?" she asked.

They nodded and after gathering their belongings, headed back toward the road. The morning sun made the grassy plains glow, the rusted tufts of grass swaying gently. She could hear the thunderous footsteps of the mammoths as they worked their way through the grass, enjoying their morning meal. Scanning the plains she tried to locate the large beasts and hopefully steer clear of them and their giant companions, however they were no where to be found. The plains carried sound for miles. Shaking her head she reminded herself not to worry too much. She would know if they were coming abreast of the large beasts when she felt their footsteps shake the ground beneath her feet.

It was almost midday when they came upon the fork in the road that would lead them to Falkreath. They could either stay on the road they followed, heading north to Rorikstead or turn south. This road would eventually take them to Riften, however she did not intend to follow it that far. A few miles south the road branched west. They would follow that and be in Falkreath by tomorrow. If she was lucky, they wouldn't find a single tomb along the way.

"Ri, look." Fil pointed off the road to their right.

She glanced to where he pointed to find an enormous circular mound, easily thirty feet in diameter, filled with packed dirt and surrounded by three stone arches. Almost as one they paused, each aware of what they were seeing.

Myllian spoke softly, almost whispering, "I used to play Dragon hunter on the burial mound near Solitude."

"It's funny. I know I've seen that mound a hundred times before. I've seen so many dragon burial sites; I've even studied them at the Mage's College." Fil paused uncertain how to explain what he was feeling. "Dragons were myth, legend. Their power had left the world. They were simply a creature long dead, mystical yes, interesting absolutely, but not much more than that. But now…"

Myllian nodded. "Now they live. Now they destroy."

Fil paused for a moment and then he asked aloud the question on all their minds, "Do you know how many burial sites there are in Skyrim?"

Riandr turned to him, the thought sobering. There were more than she cared to count. There was one or two located outside of every major city. Many more located in the mountains and plains of each hold. If dragons were to return to Skyrim, in that number? She couldn't imagine devastation on that scale.

Myllian held her breath, the dragon mound near Solitude and her home flashing before her eyes. Her parents still lived there, had their shops there. The thought of a dragon laying waste to her city, to her family and friends, made her head spin. She reached for her axe, laying a hand on the weapon's grip. It was an instinctive reaction, it helped her feel in control of a situation she had no control over.

Riandr tore her gaze away from the mound. "Let's move on. I'd like to get through the mountain pass by sundown."

Myllian turned to follow Riandr, her thoughts consumed by her fear for her family. It took her a moment to realize Fil still stood, staring at the mound. She moved back to his side, nudging him. "Let's go, mage; we can't do any good here."

Fil nodded, and then slowly turned from the mound, matching his pace to Myllian's longer gait. "Do you have family, warrior?"

Myllian nodded, her tone was somber when she spoke. "Yes, in Solitude. My parents and my little brother live there."

Fil laughed, "Little brother, eh? I hear they can be a handful."

"He is considerably younger than I am. Though he does tend to follow me around like a puppy whenever I get a chance to visit."

"I should think so! You're a warrior! Glittery armor, massive shiny axe! You're probably like a god to him."

Myllian laughed. "My ma says I'm a bad influence on him. Making him want to be a warrior and all. Not something safe like an alchemist, or a bard or a smith like my pa." She shrugged and added sadly, "Maybe I am."

Fil touched her arm and with great sincerity, disagreed. "Nonsense. Your brother will be whatever he is meant to be. Warrior, mage, poet. It will be his decision. Not yours. But if he turns out to be half the remarkable person you are, Myllian, he should consider himself lucky."

Myllian blushed, embarrassed by the mage's praise.

"Besides," he sighed, "I know many an alchemist who met their end out searching for herbs because they didn't take the time to learn the basics of self-defense. Fools."

Myllian stopped for a moment, surprised that that thought had never entered her mind. "That's true! And if my little brother learns enough swordplay and archery from me so he can at least protect himself…"

"Then he will be far better off then if he stayed…"

"A _milk drinker_!" Myllian added passionately.

"Absolutely." Fil grinned at his friend.

Myllian turned to the mage, ecstatic. She felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. The relief filled her with a wonderful euphoria and she suddenly had a strange desire to grab the mage and kiss him. She blushed, dark red at the thought, and before she could act on the impulse lengthened her stride, catching up to Riandr.

They continued on the road, heading south. It rose before them, bordered on each side by trees and brush. The road itself had at one time consisted of solid stone, set meticulously in the earth to form a solid, level traveling surface. However the Great War had bled the Empire almost to death and there was now no money for road engineers or labors to maintain these passages. Pushed from the earth by years of neglect and the dramatic Skyrim season changes, the stone now jutted out of the ground at interesting angles, making traversing the passage an adventure in itself. When they reached the base of the mountain, the road began a steep incline and their pace slowed considerably. Fil's constant scavenging for alchemic materials didn't help matters.

"Do you like flowers then, mage?" Back in control of her actions, Myllian couldn't stop the mocking grin that played with her lips.

Fil nodded, unabashed. "Why yes I do, warrior." He bowed and offered Myllian a bouquet of mountain blooms. "For you, milady."

Myllian laughed. "Why thank you, kind sir." The sun had warmed the petals so their scent was a mixture of sweetness and honey.

"My pleasure, fair maiden. Do you know what these flowers are used for?" Fil asked.

Myllian shook her head. "I am no alchemist, sir, only a simple warrior." She played with the petals of a blue flower.

"Would you like to learn?" Fil offered. "I've been told I am a fairly good instructor and much like an alchemist who is more likely to survive with warrior skills, a warrior would be better armed if she knew how to heal herself with a few simple herbs."

Myllian nodded, enthusiastically. "Yes! I'm not sure why I've never taken the time to study…" an image of her mother pleading with her to study her alchemic lessons, popped into her head. The local alchemist, Angeline Morrard had offered repeatedly to give Myllian lessons, but all she had been able to think of was swordplay. The last thing she had wanted to do was sit in a dark room with an old lady, nice as she may be, studying the effects of a butterfly wing on an open wound. She shook her head, grinning ruefully, regretting that decision. "I think a general knowledge of plants and their abilities could be quite useful to a warrior."

"Agreed." Fil cleared his throat, schooling his thoughts. "All right. First off, what three flowers do you hold?"

"Let's see. Purple, blue and red mountain wild flowers."

"Very good."

As they continued forward Riandr kept her eyes on the forest surrounding them. The trees that towered above them had grown thinner, but the underbrush was thick as fog, preventing Riandr from seeing even more than a few feet past the road's edge. She allowed Fil to focus on his lessons and kept her senses strained for the sound of movement, a predator stalking them through the brush. Her skills in alchemy were possibly as good as her brother's; though she specialized in poisons. Fil had trained in all manner of potion crafting and was by far the better teacher.

"Do you believe all three flowers have the same properties?"

Myllian took a closer look at the buds. The colors were different, as were the shape of their petals and their scents. "My guess is no."

"Correct! Each flower usually has four different alchemic uses. Wait… let's back track. There are three major groups when it comes to alchemic ingredients. There are grown ingredients, ingredients that are alive and those taken from an enemy's corpse."

"Hmmm," Myllian nodded, "like a giant's toe."

"Exactly!" Fil nodded excitedly. "Now each of these ingredients can be combined to create a potion or poison. The trick is…"

Riandr stopped short, raising her hand for silence. Fil halted immediately, his senses instantly alert. Myllian reached for her axe, silently removing it.

She held her breath. Had she heard something? It sounded like a human voice, muffled, indistinct, but definitely human. She dropped to her crouch and moved closer to the forest to their right. A few feet ahead of them, like a small scar in the otherwise thick undergrowth, lay a dirt path that wound into the wood. Moving to the mouth of the path she waited a moment, hoping to hear the sound again.

"Please…"

There it was! It was definitely human, and male. The man's tone gave her the impression he was in great pain. Keeping her guard up, it wouldn't be the first time a bandit tried to use sympathy to lure her into an ambush; she motioned to the others to follow and worked her way down the dirt path. They were quickly swallowed up by the forest, the path in front of them meandering for a bit before emptying out into a small clearing. To their left the trees fell away, offering a clear view of the valley below. To their right was the large mouth of a cave, she could smell the stale air mixed with blood wafting from the opening. Directly in front of them a few downed trees had been moved to form a bench of sorts. Seated on the tree trunk was a Nord man. His blonde hair and leather armor were covered with blood. He tried to gesture to them to come closer and was barely able to lift his arm.

Riandr swiftly moved to the man's side, Fil and Myllian right behind her. "What happened?" she asked.

The man took a breath to steady himself. "Thank the gods. I didn't think I would make it out of here."

"What happened?" Riandr needed to assess the situation, introductions could wait.

"I was part of a hunting party. We tracked a bear to this cave. But when my friends and I entered there weren't just bears waiting inside. Creatures… like living trees! My friends were cut down in front of me before I could help them. I barely made it out alive."

"How many are inside? Could they still be alive?"

The man shook his head. "No. They were dead before I could crawl out. I don't think I can make it much longer. Gods I've never seen so much blood." The man was growing steadily paler as his life's blood spilt upon the ground.

Fil reached for Myllian's bouquet. "Here is some real life training, warrior. Quickly, give me the blue flowers." Myllian yanked the blue flowers from the bouquet, tossing the rest to the ground.

"Pull the petals from the stem."

She yanked the flowers free, handing a fist full of brightly colored petals to the mage. Fil turned to the dying man. "Now I want you to bite down on these. Don't swallow, just bite down and let the juice from the petals mix with your own saliva. Then swallow the liquid, not the flesh. Do you understand?"

The man nodded as best he could. It was a pathetic attempt.

Fil pressed the petals into the man's mouth, giving him a moment to form the healing juice. He waited until the Nord swallowed before bringing his hands together and uttering a few indistinguishable words under his breath. His palms began to glow with a soft light that reminded Riandr of early morning sunlight. Fil allowed his magicka to fill him, the power of the healing spell washed over him, its warmth almost inebriating. When he felt as if he might burst with sunlight, he reached out and placed his hands on the man's brow.

The hunter arched his back, his body instantly rigid. Fil could sense the hunter's pain through their connection; feel the healing spell rush through him into the hunter, knitting together the man's torn flesh and sinew. But as the spell filled the hunter with warmth and healing, it also drew from him much of his pain. Through their connection the spell transferred that pain to Fil. As if experiencing the attack himself Fil could feel his flesh tear, his blood spill. His knees buckled slightly at its intensity. He ignored the pain, focusing instead on repairing the hunter's torn muscle and flesh.

When Myllian asked of him later what it felt like, he could only describe it as the prick of a thousand needles. Excruciatingly painful for a few moments that felt as if they might last an eternity and then, as Fil released it from himself, blessed relief. He knew the moment the spell died off, felt the man's pain slowly diminish to nothing. Fil found the look of gratitude on the hunter's face almost as warming as the healing spell.

"Thank you, healer," the hunter's tone was weary, but stronger. "I don't think I'd have survived much longer."

Fil nodded. "My pleasure. You will still feel weak and lightheaded for a few days. Nothing strenuous for a week or you'll tear those wounds open again."

The hunter nodded. "But my friends? I can't leave their bodies in there to be torn apart by those animals!"

Riandr shook her head. "You are staying here. We will see to your friends."

Myllian glanced at her, a smile covering her face. "I can handle the bears."

Fil glanced at his sister and said, "Spriggans as well."

Riandr nodded. "I will go with you," at the warrior's protest she added, "just as a precaution! Spriggans are not an easy kill. And if you miss any loot that might be in there, Fil will have a fit!"

The mage laughed. "Listen to my sister, warrior. You take care of the bears; let her help you with the spriggans. And while you're killing all that evil, keep an eye out for swag." He turned to the hunter who was having trouble keeping his eyes open. "We could perhaps donate it to your friend's families? I'm sure they will need help keeping food on the table with the loss of their providers."

The man nodded. "Yes. Thank you again."

Riandr motioned to Fil to stay put, the look her gave her warned her to be careful. She and Myllian moved toward the mouth of the cave. A chill breeze hit them as they stood at the cavern's entrance. It carried the scent of moist earth, decay and the strong odor of blood. Riandr entered first, crouched and ready against an attack. Myllian followed, her grip on the Dwarven blade steady.

Riandr's eyes adjusted quickly to the change in light. The scene before her made her wish they had not. The cave opened into a small circular room, the remnants of a campfire in the center. Next to the camp fire were the remains of woman, obviously one of the hunter's friends. She lay, pale and still in a large pool of her own blood, its metallic scent filling the air. Myllian moved toward the woman, crouching next to her. Riandr heard the warrior whisper a quiet prayer for Talos' blessing over the body. She wondered again at finding such a devoted Talos worshiper in a Redguard. The loud growl of a hungry bear echoing off the cavern's walls refocused her attention.

Silently, she moved further into the cave and as she did the distinct buzzing of a thousand insects filled the air. Having dealt with spriggans before she was all too familiar with what that sound heralded. She raised a hand to Myllian, gesturing to her to move away. The warrior silently crept to the opposite side of the cavern.

The rock tunnel ahead of them narrowed quickly and traveled for twenty feet or so before emptying into a larger cavern, but a wide shelf of rock ran above them, along the walls on either side of the gap. Up on the ledge, only a stone's throw ahead of them a tree had fallen on its side, providing a high bridge to cross over above the narrow alleyway. Riandr motioned to Myllian that she would take the high shelf, allowing Myllian to use the entire tunnel for her axe swing. Myllian nodded and then worked her way quietly down the stone passageway.

Riandr moved toward the shelf on her left, silently working her way up its path. The buzzing grew louder with each step she took. Silence and the Elven blade were in her hands, Silence aching with the desire for blood. Riandr hoped the blade would not be disappointed that spriggans did not have blood. As she rounded the top of the stone shelf she saw the spriggan before her. The creature stood close to the ledge's edge, staring down at the rock tunnel below. Spriggans were a bizarre mixture of tree roots, vines and earth, held together in the loose shape of a woman. Given life by the very forest they inhabited they were always accompanied by bear, wolf or saber cats. Their fingers, made of hardened wood and vine, ended in vicious thorny talons. They could also throw a dangerous spell of destruction at you, while their companion insects swarmed over you, draining you of your blood and your life. Spriggans were not to be toyed with.

Riandr crept up on this one, using what shadow she could find. She could tell the moment it spotted Myllian in the tunnel below. Its body stiffened and the insects that surrounded it began to buzz in an almost impossible tempo. Just as the spriggan lifted its hand to cast its spell, Riandr leapt. Fire was the best way to deal with a spriggan, however she had none. Instead she chose the old fashioned method and stabbed the creature repeatedly with both blades, cutting through root and vine, decimating it. When she was certain the creature was dead, she moved to the ledge's edge, peering over the side. Myllian stood a few feet below her, axe ready.

"Everything all right?" she whispered.

Riandr nodded. She searched the spriggan's body, finding a nice piece of taproot for her brother. Placing it in her satchel, she worked her way to the fallen log and used it to cross over to the other side of the cavern where the fern covered ledge continued further into the cave. The dark cramped tunnel below her continued only a few feet further before ending abruptly, opening into the cave's sunlight central chamber.

The chamber was circular and lit by rays of brilliant sunlight that streamed from an opening in the cavern's ceiling. A large waterfall flowed from the same gap, creating a deep pool in the center of the room. To their right the ledge continued along the wall, ending in a point just above the pool. Every surface of the cavern was covered in moss, ferns, or trees. A few of the trees in the center of the cave grew taller than many of the homes in Whiterun. Butterflies of every hue flittered in and out of the sun's rays.

Spriggans were spirits of the forest and whether they created the forest to live or the forest created them to protect it Riandr couldn't say. However she had to admit wherever they existed, the forest surrounding them was incredibly beautiful.

Myllian motioned to Riandr, drawing her attention away from the cavern's beauty directing it instead toward the yawning bear a few yards in front of them. Dark brown and as big as a small horse, the bear stretched lazily next to the lifeless body of a hunter. Myllian held her axe steady as she moved closer. There were many ways to handle a bear. Arrow from afar, grabble and stab or perhaps her favorite, a heavy blow to the head. One swing, done just right, would crush the bear's skull. She felt the rush as she neared her prey. One overhanded swing. It took longer, to round the blade back and over her head, but the added momentum would bring the edge of her axe crashing into the bear's skull with the power of a landslide. She flexed her thigh muscles, prepping them for her lunge. The power of this attack was centered on her legs and her axe arm. The axe, once in motion, would carry itself, but she needed to lunge forward with surety and power. There were perhaps five steps between her and the bear; she intended to use each one to build up her momentum and force. Adjusting her grip, she started the blade's backward swing just as she left her crouch. Springing forward she crossed the distance between her and the bear in five steps, the blade racing through its arc, building up power and speed.

The bear raised his great head, only becoming aware of her in the split second before the axe finished its downward rush, crashing into the bear's skull, killing him instantly. Myllian found the resounding crunch rewarding.

Riandr moved silently along the cavern's ledge, high above the cavern floor. She could hear the buzzing again and was not surprised that it grew louder as she approached a small group of trees. Even with her years of training she did not see the spriggan until it pulled itself from the bark of one of the trees below her. It stood staring up at her and though it could not physically reach her up on the ledge, it sent a swarm of insects racing towards her, to cover her. Riandr panicked for a moment. The insects could not pierce her armor, but they swarmed around her face, blocking her vision, their deafening buzz drowning out any other sound. She clamped her eyes and mouth shut, knowing the bugs would try to tear at the weak flesh of her eyes, or swarm in her mouth, effectively choking her. Instead she braced herself, and though she could no longer see where the spriggan was, she leaped off the ledge, aiming for the spot where she had last seen the creature.

Instinct and training paid off, she hit the spriggan dead center, her blades cutting a swath of devastation through the creature's torso. Its cry of pain was music to Riandr's ears. The majority of the insects had been taken by surprise when Riandr leapt and not followed her. She took a chance and opened her eyes, stabbing into the creature repeatedly with her blades. The spriggan continued to cry out, the sound more like the angry buzz of a hundred bees than a human cry. It tried to scratch Riandr, tried to call its insect army to its aid, but it grew weaker with every blow until all that was left of the spirit was torn bits of shrubbery. Myllian came racing toward her, breathing heavily, axe at the ready.

Her gaze took in the torn bits of spriggan littering the trail. "Well… that's one way I suppose…" she murmured.

Riandr shook dead insects out from under her hood and inside her ears. "Cleared?" She motioned toward the rest of the cave and Myllian nodded.

"There was another one of these," the warrior gestured toward the remains of the spriggan, "over there. I took care of her though."

Riandr grinned. "Well done! Now I need to search for treasure."

"Do they have treasure? What would they do with it?"

Riandr laughed. "They always have treasure. Most of it I think comes from their victims. I am not sure they do anything with it. Just keep it." From her assessment of the chamber there was only one likely place for the spriggans to hide their bounty. Climbing up to the ledge, she followed the mossy path until it came to an end at an outcropping that hung high over the large pool beneath the waterfall. A chest lay nestled in the moss, its brass lock calling out to her. Her fingers tingled in excitement as she worked the lock. It opened far too easily for her liking. Inside the chest Riandr found a pair of ebony boots, a few potions and a staff and a steel sword. She sighed, these were valuable items, which meant her brother was going to regret offering up the cave's treasures to the hunter's families. He would honor his offer, but he would be grouchy for days. A soft sparkle from the pool below her caught her attention.

"Myllian…"

"Yes, boss?" The warrior was by her side in an instant. "Can you take these for me? I think there is something at the bottom of the pool."

"Want me to get it?" Myllian offered. "I'm a great swimmer."

Riandr shook her head, gesturing to the warrior's glittering metal armor. "I think my armor will be slightly easier to swim in."

Myllian shrugged. "I'll wait for you by the exit then." The warrior moved off, carrying the extensive amount of treasure with ease.

Riandr stood on the ledge, looking down into the water. Rays of sunlight danced across the pond's surface, causing the water below to appear alternately deep blue and then crystal clear. A quick flash of gold in the water made her grin. Yes, there was definitely something down there. She took three large breaths, stretching out her lungs and then dove into the water. The cold water stung the skin on her face, but the rest of her body felt comfortably cool, protected by her armor. Swimming deeper, she quickly saw what it was that had caught her attention. The skeletal remains of a long forgotten warrior rested on the bottom of the pool, a nameless victim of the spriggans. The skeleton's bones had begun to melt into the sandy bottom of the pool, its armor completely gone. Riandr had to assume it had been poorly treated hide or leather and eventually disintegrated in the water. However the warrior still held tightly to its metal shield and sword. She reached for the armaments, grasped them firmly and then pushed off the sandy bottom, kicking as hard as she could. It was slower swimming with a shield and sword, but she made it to the pool's edge where Myllian waited. The warrior took the shield from her, examining it closely.

"Elven. Beautifully crafted."

"This as well." Riandr held up the sword that gleamed as brightly as the day it was made. The sword, made of quicksilver and moonstone, was thick at the shoulder, grew narrow toward the center of the blade, only to widen again at the tip. Its edges were remarkably sharp, as was the beautiful etched design that ran along the shoulder and the guard. The grip, covered in leather, was thinner than she would have liked, however she could not argue with the weapon's balance and effectiveness.

"Beautiful," Myllian remarked.

They made their way toward the cavern's exit, each carrying an armful of treasure. "Your brother is not going to be happy," Myllian said, sighing. "Giving away all this…"

Riandr laughed. "No. Not at all."

"He's going to be ill-tempered now, isn't he?" Myllian sighed again.

"Utterly," Riandr agreed.

"There's no way we can get out of it. We've got to find him a tomb to plunder!" Myllian's tone was almost pleading.

It was Riandr's turn to sigh as she abandoned any hope of an uneventful trip to Falkreath. "I agree, or both of us will be forced to deal with his sulking."

"I'd rather face a pack of irritable trolls!" Myllian grumbled.

"Ah… if only!" Riandr laughed, knowing her moody brother was often considerably more difficult to handle.


	9. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

As there was a great deal of treasure and the hunter was still weak from his wounds, they accompanied him to a nearby hunter's shack, where friends could help him carry the treasures they found back to Falkreath. The hunter was profusely grateful for the riches they offered him. After another burst of thanks and exclamations of their generosity, the hunter left with his companions, promising to return and bury his dead friends. To his credit, Fil kept a benevolent grin on his face up until they parted ways.

When they again returned to the road, Fil's depression took over. His dark countenance was only rivaled by his constant disheartening sighs. Riandr did her best to ignore him. She did not feel guilty; he had offered the swag up. Myllian however was uncomfortable with his silence.

"It was a good thing, what you did…" Myllian matched her steps to Fil's shorter ones.

Fil shrugged.

"Really, it was," she tried to sound sympathetic. "Those hunter's families will be able to eat now…" she thought about the amount of treasure they had handed to the hunter, "very well and for a long, long time."

Fil growled softly.

Riandr tried not to grin, but it was difficult. Myllian was certainly not improving matters, however she gave the warrior full marks for trying.

"Look." Myllian opened her small satchel and pulled out a few bear claws. "I forgot! I got these for you."

Fil glanced at her outstretched hand. He raised an eyebrow, "Bear claws?"

Myllian nodded. "From the cave. I thought you might… you know, use them. For your potions."

Fil glanced from the claws to Myllian's face. He could see how much effort she was putting into trying to lighten his mood, and suddenly felt like an ass. Here he was brooding about the loss of coin, when there were others who had lost loved ones. Yes, he cringed inwardly, he was an absolute ass. He returned the warrior's smile.

"Thank you, My. I can definitely use these."

"Good. I wasn't sure, but I thought they might be useful. Oh and these!" She reached into her bag and removed some mushrooms she had picked from the trunk of a tree near the Spriggan she killed. "Are these any good?"

Fil whistled. "Mora Tapinella! Very nice. Thank you, My. These are very helpful." He took the mushrooms from her and stuffed them into his satchel.

Riandr tossed the taproot she had collect to her brother. "Here. Figured you could use this."

Fil caught the small clump of gnarled vine and held it up to the late afternoon sunlight. Its iridescent green glow was eerie in the soft summer sunlight. "Beautiful," he murmured. "Thank you, sis. Myllian." He shoved the taproot into his satchel, feeling oddly comforted at their thoughtfulness.

They continued on in companionable silence, the waning sun casting large shadows across the stone paved road. The path, now descending into Falkreath hold, grew narrow at times. It wasn't until they had reached the gentle rolling hills at the base of the mountain that it opened up, offering them a beautiful view of the small valley below. A stone bridge lay a short distance in front of them, the river beneath loudly rushing east into Lake Ilinalta. A lumber mill sat at the river's mouth, using the energy of the powerful river to run the immense sawmill.

Following the road, they worked their way across the bridge, Fil happily offering up explanations of the flora they passed. He was deep in a diatribe concerning the thistle he had picked when they reached the lumber yard. The owner's dwelling was close to the road, the tiny home surround by a small thicket and a dense corpse of sun dappled trees. Chickens clucked noisily in front of the house as they searched the ground for grubs. The sawmill stood a short distance from them, adjacent to the river. Its ancient water wheel creaked loudly in protest as it turned in the rushing water. A young dark haired woman stood at the railing of the mill, staring across the expanse at them.

Riandr ignored the woman, intent on keeping to the path. Fil, upon seeing the young woman, had other ideas. He quickly strode through the mill yard, his gaze and greeting friendly.

"Hello!" Fil called out cheerfully, waving enthusiastically.

The young woman smiled in return. Riandr thought it was not a smile filled with warmth or greeting.

"A guest? Oh my…" the girl's tone held excitement. When Fil shook his head in denial she asked, "Are you here for work? If so grab an axe and bring me all the wood you can chop."

Riandr followed close behind her brother, keeping the reluctance she felt from her expression. Fil loved meeting new people, making friends; it was a part of her brother's personality that had always annoyed her. Riandr's life was in the shadows; in the dark. In addition she felt a subtle shiver rush up her spine, as if something were not quite right about the girl. Certainly her accent was different. It wasn't foreign; not High Rock or Cyrodiilic, but neither was it Nord. Whatever was affecting her, Riandr could not yet give it a name. However the sensation was enough to keep her at her brother's side.

"Merely passing through," Fil said. He tried not to stare at the woman and found it surprisingly difficult. The girl had dark black hair that glistened in the waning sunlight. Her skin was quite pale, paler that most Bretons he knew. Her lips were almost ashen. However it was her eyes he found disturbing. Completely black, they seemed to bore into him, dissecting him. "Do you get many guests out here?"

The girl shrugged. "We have guests as often as we can, but these days there aren't a lot of travelers. The war keeps people off the road."

Fil unconsciously noted the _we_. "Name's Fil by the way."

"Hert." The girl offered her hand; Fil shook it and was shocked at how cold it was.

Riandr held her breath, uncertain why her senses were screaming at her. She scanned the land around them, searching for something, anything that might be out of place and the reason for her discomfort. The river ran noisily to their left, the wheel still creaking loudly. The mill itself stood ten feet above the ground, a single ramp its only entrance. Hert stood a few feet up the ramp, staring at Fil as if he were an unexpected gift. Behind her was a small wooden shack, with a single open arch. She had been about to dismiss the building as storage, when suddenly the breeze off the lake shifted, moving through the shack and towards her, carrying the scent of warm grass, forest pine and blood.

Riandr froze, her mind racing. Blood? Reluctantly, she moved away from her brother, stepping closer to the shack, drawn by the scent. She glanced inside the small enclosure to find rabbits and pheasants hanging from hooks on the ceiling. A small table held slabs of beef and venison. With a sigh, she chided herself. A butcher's shack! 'I am over reacting,' she thought. Satisfied that nothing was amiss she was about to turn away when a mound of bloody rags on the floor caught her attention. She moved into the shack and dropped to a crouch. Pulling Silence from her sheath, she used the tip to lift the top rag from the pile. Silence pulsed with fire, flashing scarlet in the darkened shed.

Riandr froze, her instincts screaming at her to pull both blades and prepare for battle. Silence's reaction could mean only one thing, this was human blood! She could feel the blade's joy as it absorbed blood from the rag. Her mind raced with possibilities. It was a butcher's shed. There was bound to be blood, animal and human. Whoever had skinned the animals may have cut themselves, which would account for the blood. 'But in this quantity?' her instincts argued. What could it mean? A flash of white under the table caught her eye. She wiped the blade on her thigh and shoved it into its sheath. Leaning forward she pushed aside a few rabbit pelts to find a curved shape she knew well, but had not expected to see.

Laying half covered in animal pelts was a human rib cage, its white bones splashed with red blood. Instinctively her hand flew to Silence's hilt, but she fought the urge to charge at the young woman. Something here was definitely wrong; but what the presence of human ribs meant was not clear.

"Who do you supply lumber to?" Fil asked. There was something about this woman, something he couldn't quite name. He felt drawn to her and yet repulsed by her at the same time. He could feel his misgivings about this woman growing, but he tried to act as if nothing were amiss.

"Falkreath mostly. We…" she paused as she glanced over his shoulder and saw Riandr moving slowly out of the shack. "There's nothing in there, just a few rabbits and pheasant." The girl grinned reassuringly at Riandr and Fil. Neither of them was reassured.

"Without our lumber they would have trouble keeping their prices low," Hert continued as if they had not been interrupted.

Fil nodded, smiling as encouragingly as he could muster. Glancing at his sister as she joined him on the mill platform, he knew instantly she shared his concerns. Her face showed nothing other than faint interest, but he knew better, could read the squint of her eyes, the twitching of her fingers. He felt a cold chill creeping up his spine and was suddenly filled with the desire to flee this place.

"Well, it was nice to have met you, Hert." Fil bowed graciously. "However we must be off. Long way to travel before sundown."

"Why don't you stay awhile?" The girl's tone was suddenly soft, seductive. Riandr glanced at her brother and so missed the quick flash of gold in the woman's eyes. All Riandr saw was Fil's hesitation, as if he were seriously considering the woman's request. She saw his eyes glaze over, his face grow slack. Instinct kicked in and Riandr turned her back to the girl, avoiding her gaze.

"Sorry. Not possible. Thank you for the offer though." Riandr grabbed her brother by the arm and dragged him down the ramp and across a small wooden bridge. Fil tried to fight her, dragging his feet in the dirt and bellowing loudly enough that Myllian turned from her contemplation of the lake and hurried to Riandr's side.

"What's going on, boss?" Myllian could feel the tension in her friend's stride.

"We need to get Fil out of here." Riandr growled as she half dragged half pushed her brother up the sandy path.

Fil's thoughts were muddied, clouded and fuzzy. He couldn't fight the overwhelming desire he had to stay. He tried to plant his feet, to pry loose his sister's iron grip. He failed miserably. Glancing back at the mill he stared longingly at Hert's slowly shrinking form.

Myllian grabbed an arm and yanked Fil forward, onto the road. "Move it, mage, before I carry you over my shoulder!"

Fil hesitated and then with great reluctance began walking forward on his own. Riandr kept her grip on his arm, the entire time her gaze never leaving his face.

Slowly, as if coming out of a dense fog, Fil's mind grew clear. He turned to his sister, his expression horrified. "I would have stayed! I would have done whatever she asked of me! What in the gods did she do to me?"

Riandr slowly loosened her hold on him. "I am not sure. It might have been a glimmer of sorts. She spoke and suddenly your face lost all expression."

"Glimmer?" Fil shook his head. "No, I would have seen it! She cast no spell. I didn't feel any magicka flow from her…"

Riandr shrugged. "You know more about magics than I do. However, there were human ribs in the tanning shack. Something is not quite right at that mill."

Fil gritted his teeth, filled with a sudden urge to pour a few hundred volts of lightning into Hert. "You want to go back?"

Riandr toyed with the notion and then shook her head. "The mill and that woman concern me. But for now our focus must be on our client. Perhaps we will return after our time with the boy."

Myllian looked at them both. "I don't understand. She seemed perfectly normal to me."

Riandr glanced at the sun. "Besides it is almost nightfall. We should find a place to make camp for the night and continue on to Falkreath in the morning."

The road continued south, meandering through the wood. The forest surrounding them was a little thinner this close to the lake, but was spotted with large boulders that lined the edge of the roadway. Autumn had not yet made its way this far south, so the trees still held the vibrant green of summer. The wind off the lake was cool at their backs and as the sun slowly set to the west they began to look for a suitable place to make camp. Fil could feel his stomach growling, reminding him he hadn't eaten since this morning's breakfast of bread and cheese. A hot bowl of venison stew sounded perfect.

"There's something." Myllian pointed to the outline of a tower just visible over the tree tops to their right.

"We are close to Falkreath. Could be a watchtower," Riandr mused. Built by the Empire, these Hold towers were usually made of stone and mortar. Twenty feet wide at their base they often rose to a height of forty feet. Impressive when they were originally constructed centuries before, most had crumbled into disarray and were abandoned by the Holds when they became too costly to repair. On occasion though, as in Whiterun, they were manned by Hold soldiers. "They might allow us to camp at their base."

Fil's stomach gurgled in anticipation. Soldiers often meant stew. "Let's give it a try." They found a small path leading off the road and followed it as it wound its way through the forest. The sun had disappeared behind the mountains, but the stars had not yet started to light the night sky. The darkness surrounding them was almost complete. The path climbed steeply as they neared the tower. The fortification rose before them, circular, its stone walls worn and crumbling. A short set of stone steps led to an arched entryway. The doorway was lit by a single torch, its flames casting random shadows in the growing darkness.

Riandr slowed, listening. The night was quiet, the forest asleep before the nocturnal predators began their hunt. Nothing broke the silence, not the murmured laughter of soldiers or the clank of gear or sword. No one called to them demanding they announce themselves. Fil stood still beside her, sharing her concern. The dim light of the torch flickered off a polished image by the path side. Fil grimaced, and then drew Riandr's attention to it.

She glanced at him, frowning. "Is that a Spriggan's head?"

Fil nodded and whispered. "It's a power totem suggesting a mage, probably a Necromancer." Riandr nodded in agreement. Myllian quietly drew her axe from its holder, readying the giant blade.

The tower rose easily fifty feet into the air, tilting precariously to the west. At its top Riandr could just make out the slight flickering of light, almost certainly a campfire, silhouetted against the darkness. She gestured to Fil who nodded and moved silently toward the doorway. Riandr kept to the darkness, her blades in hand. Myllian moved forward with Fil, her eyes trained on the entryway, her axe twirling slowly.

Fil whispered a quick spell as he mounted the stairs. It erupted with a quiet whoosh, and then a single form on the tower's roof began to glow with a soft red light. He stopped as he entered the tower, letting his eyes adjust to the dark, glancing around the room. The base floor was empty except for a bookcase that held not books, but a human rib cage and skull. A sharp stake protruded from the stone next to the bookcase, the skinned body of one of the mage's human victims hung limply from it. A staircase lay to their right, spiraling around the side of the tower and out of sight. Fil stepped silently toward the staircase checking the stones for magical traps. Myllian crept behind him, her gaze locked onto the stairs above them as they disappeared into the darkness.

They cautiously took the stairs, listening intently after each step. Half way up they came upon a small platform. Fil paused for a moment, his eyes adjusting. Stars were now visible through the large opening at the top of the staircase. They glittered for a moment and then disappeared behind a thin veil of smoke. Fil readied himself for the final climb. He had chosen fire as his weapon. Casting a spell with each hand he could double the impact of his spell. If the mage had even a moment's notice of their presence he could cast a ward to protect himself, but eventually a fire spell of this intensity would break through and destroy the man.

He regretted having to kill the mage, missing conversation with others who studied the arcane arts. However his time at the Mage's College had taught him one thing, all necromancers were crazy. Necromancy in and of itself didn't provoke insanity. Certainly he had re-animated a corpse or two in his day. But true necromancers? The ones who killed the living and then stuck them on spikes, or animated dead warriors and kept them as servants, friends and lovers? These mages were stark raving mad. Take Potema for instance. Queen of Solitude, powerful necromancer, crazy woman.

Fil motioned to Myllian and they continued their silent ascent. They both paused as their eyes reached the edge of the tower's floor. Peering over the lip, they could see a campfire filled the middle of the platform, its light reflecting off every surface. A small tent was erected towards the western edge, next to it sat a large chest. The necromancer sat at the fire, her back towards them, her companion, a towering Nord stood near the tent, a large sword in his hand, his face empty of all expression. Fil motioned to Myllian that the Nord was hers, she grinned in response. Fil brought the spell to mind, reciting the words carefully under his breath. With a quick flick of his wrists each hand began to glow with flame. He nodded to Myllian and they burst from the staircase onto the tower platform. Fil shot his flame straight at the necromancer, hitting the mage in the center of her back. The mage, caught unprepared screamed as the flame hit her. She tried to stand, attempting to project her wards.

Myllian raced across the tower, her axe cutting through the air, heading in a perfect arch for the Nord's neck. The man raised his blade just in time to deflect the brunt of the blow. He dropped to his knees, staggered. Myllian took the opportunity to swing her axe around again, aiming for the man's sword arm. It crossed her mind as her axe raced through its dance, sparkling in the firelight, that the Nord was not moving like a trained fighter at all. It was almost as if she were fighting a sleepwalker.

Fil continued to pour the flames at the necromancer, showing her no quarter. The woman had erected a small ward, but was forced to funnel all of her magicka into maintaining it. They both knew it was only a matter of time before Fil's flames broke through her ward and consumed her. Afterward, Fil couldn't say why the woman glanced at the Nord warrior. Love? Fear? For whatever reason she turned her attention from Fil to the Nord, and upon seeing Myllian's blade arcing toward his exposed neck, she screamed and ignoring Fil's fire, ended her ward in order to send a bolt of lightening at Myllian.

She never completed the spell. Fil saw his chance and gathering all of his magic to him, shot a deadly fireball at the necromancer. She exploded in a burst of flame, burnt to nothing but ash and bits of bone. The Nord never moved, nor made a sound. Myllian's blade was inches away from his neck when he too burst into ash and soot. The momentum of her blade caused her to stumble when its intended victim was suddenly not there.

She caught herself and glared at Fil. "What happened?"

Fil leaned forward, his hands on his knees, breathless from the use of magicka. He took a moment, trying to catch his breath. "Necromancer. I believe the Nord was a zombie."

Myllian glanced at the two piles of ash a look of disgust on her face. "Mages are crazy."

"Hey," Fil grumbled, too winded to offer up a pithier rebuttal.

Myllian grinned apologetically. "Most mages."

Fil shrugged. "I can live with that."

Riandr peeled herself from the darkness, moving to Fil's side.

"Where were you, sis? Taking a break?"

Riandr laughed. "You two had everything well in hand. I would have jumped in if it looked like you needed me."

"We were fine. Right, My?"

Myllian grumbled. "I didn't even get to kill anything."

Fil started to laugh but caught a whiff of something that made him pause. "Wait. Is that stew?" He lifted the lid of a pot that hung over the campfire. "Yes! Thank the gods. The necromancer was a cook!"

Suddenly realizing how hungry they were, they greedily dug into the venison stew. The mage had a single bowl, but Fil had an assortment of utensils in his satchel. Riandr found a bottle of spiced wine and a curiously luminous tome in the necromancer's tent. Tossing the book to Fil, she quickly uncorked the wine which they were eager to share. Myllian took a seat by the tent, avoiding the mounds of ash. Riandr sat cross legged on a weathered chest, while Fil took a seat on a large stone pillar that had crumbled to the tower's floor centuries before. When their bellies were full, they sat staring into the fire, finally allowing the weight of the day's journey to catch up with them.

His need for stew now sated, Fil took a moment to study the necromancer's tome. Its light purple leather glowed softly in the darkness, the imprint of the Oblivion sigil clear on the cover.

"What's the book, Fil?" Myllian asked.

He flipped open the cover. "Liminal Bridges, by Camilonwe of Alinor."

"What's it about?"

He turned to the first page and grinning slightly read, "_Transliminal passage of quickened objects or entities without the persistent agency of hyperagonal media is not possible, and even if possible, would result in instantaneous retromission of the transported referents_."

There was a moment of silence before Myllian said, "I'm sorry… what was that?"

Fil tried to hide the soft chuckle that burst from him. "It's ok, My. This is very advanced, even for a Master Conjurer like myself. It's basically a dissertation on the mechanics of a gate to Oblivion."

"Oh." She paused again, the only sound the crackle of the fire, and then asked softly, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Certainly."

"A mage in a party I worked with once said that after a spell book is read, the book is destroyed. Is that true?"

This time Fil did not even attempt to hide his laughter. "By the gods, no! What a bucket of troll dung!"

"Well, it sounded strange to me but, well my parents didn't have much to do with magic."

Fil thought for a moment, then closed the book and added, "From a certain perspective, it may be true. After reading a spell book, the knowledge becomes imprinted onto the mage, is absorbed by her. So from that point on the tome becomes useless to her. However the book itself remains intact and can be sold or passed on to another who might garner knowledge from its contents. So… possibly, from a very dramatic perspective, there might be some truth to his outlandish claim."

Myllian poked at the fire with a small piece of kindling, sending sparks flying into the darkness above them. "Actually, I think the mage was simply an idiot."

"That may also be true," Fil agreed. He ran his hand across the soft leather binding of the tome, knowing he was much too tired to absorb a treatise on Oblivion gates tonight. But tired as he was, his mind would not calm. A thousand thoughts drifted through his weary brain, but he had to admit that one question in particular kept popping up, forcing him to acknowledge his concern. He decided now was as good a time as any to question his sister. "Ri…"

Riandr stared at the campfire. She knew what her brother wanted to ask, she just wasn't sure she had an answer. "Yes, little brother?"

Fil sighed. "Well?"

She paused, she didn't want to scare him, but she didn't want to lie to him either. "No… and yes, that bothers me."

Myllian glanced first at Fil, then at Riandr. "What in the name of the gods are you two talking about?"

They exchanged a look and then laughed. "Sorry, My!" Fil said sheepishly. "We forget how difficult it is for others to follow our train of thought."

"Difficult?" the warrior grumbled. "Impossible is more like it!"

"Again sorry," Fil offered. "Well, I keep asking myself one question, 'what is that boy up to'? So my question to Ri was, 'Do you know what in Oblivion that boy is up to?'"

"And my response was, 'No, I do not,'" Riandr added and then as an after thought she said to the flames, "and yes, that does bother me."

Myllian nodded, their exchange now making sense. "Why did you take the job then, boss?"

Riandr shook her head. "Because it was… given to me. One does not refuse a request such as this."

Myllian glanced at the fire and then at her friend. The only conclusion she could come to was it had been a request by her order, The Dark Brotherhood. Possibly by someone at the order who outranked Riandr. Myllian found it hard to believe anyone could out rank the woman. Riandr was one of the most confident, skilled warriors she had ever met. The thought of Riandr taking orders from someone else almost made Myllian laugh. She was about to say as much when the look on Riandr's face made her pause. It reminded her of that first night, by the fire, when Riandr was biding her time before she assassinated the Argonian. That night, less than a week past, Riandr's face had shown none of the emotional tempest her face displayed tonight. It had been stone then, cold, empty and lifeless.

Tonight her face held a thousand expressions, most of them dark, full of anger, concern, questions and convictions. She wondered if her friend felt more comfortable displaying her feelings with her, or had she become less able to hide them? Either way Myllian once again wished there was someone whose skull she could smash to give Riandr some peace.

Fil decided a clinical approach might help them. "Let's list what we know, maybe that will help us define what we don't. He is powerful."

Riandr nodded. That was a given.

"And older than he looks."

Riandr nodded again. The little boy form was most likely a disguise of sorts. The gods took many innocent forms in order to seduce mortals into contracts or situations that they later would come to regret. Gian's intense maternal feelings toward the boy were testament to how well these forms worked.

"He doesn't use his power," Myllian added.

"True!" Fil began counting what they knew about the boy on his fingers. "Powerful, older than he looks, needs help securing his shards. Do you think he can't use his powers? Or won't use them?"

Riandr raised an eyebrow; the question was actually quite interesting. If the boy's abilities were limited at the moment, then why were they limited? Why was he searching for the shards? Would they unleash his power? "He did not give me the impression that he was concerned for his own safety. It was almost as if he had complete confidence in us, or himself."

Fil grinned. "Well us of course."

Riandr laughed. "Doubtful. I believe his confidence came from some inner knowledge of his own immortality."

"Immortal?" Myllian asked, confused. "Then why would he need us?"

"My guess is he may be immortal, but at the moment he is not all powerful."

"So the shards…" Fil mumbled.

Riandr nodded. "There is the possibility that the shards, once he recovers them all, might unlock his abilities. His true powers."

They were silent for a moment, each staring into the campfire. Myllian broke the silence, her tone expressing a calm detachment she did not feel. "I didn't get the impression that he would be a benevolent god."

Riandr sighed. "Nor did I."

Fil glanced at his sister, concerned. Aiding the boy was a request of the Nightmother. A request that he knew his sister could not break without alienating herself from her order. On the other hand, how could they be responsible for unleashing yet another powerful force of chaos onto the land?

Riandr turned to him, her shrug almost imperceptible. She let his unasked question go unanswered. In truth, she had no answer at the moment. What she knew with a growing certainty was that one day soon she would be forced to make that decision. She hoped with all her heart that when she did decide, she did not also consign her brother and her new friend to their deaths.

"Does anyone else think it might not be coincidence that the boy and these dragons are suddenly found in Skyrim?" Myllian asked.

They both turned to her, looks of surprise on their faces.

Fil smacked himself on the forehead. "You're right! I know we dismissed that possibility at the Inn, Ri, but we have never fully explored it! There has to be a connection."

"But why would the boy unleash dragons? How could he? He can not be that powerful. Not and still need us to help him find the shards," Riandr mused.

"Maybe… maybe he didn't unleash them." Myllian thought aloud. "But maybe he's using them, using their presence, to accomplish his goals."

Fil stared at the warrior, admiration written on his face. "Yes! Why couldn't he have chosen now, _because_ the dragons are here, to do what he needs to do?"

"It's a very plausible theory, Myllian." Riandr leaned forward, excited. "The dragon's presence may very well protect him, or cover what his is doing. Perhaps there are other, equally powerful entities, who do not want him to accomplish his goal."

"Hmmm," Fil murmured. "What if these other entities are even worse?"

"And what of the Dragonborn?" Riandr murmured softly. "What part does she play in all of this? Is she aiding the boy? Or is she someone he may fear?"

Fil glanced at her. "I'm not sure the boy fears anyone. But perhaps she is someone he hadn't counted on. Perhaps he had planned on the dragons, but not the Dragonborn."

Myllian sighed. "My head hurts. I need to smash something."

Riandr and Fil laughed. "You have a point, warrior. All we have are theories. I suppose we have no other choice at the moment but to keep moving forward and see how all this plays out."

They stared silently at the fire for a while, each pondering the thought of releasing a force of evil into their world. Riandr's thoughts drifted back to the tomb, the way the boy held back, unable or unwilling to help. She had a sudden flash of Fil's spell. Turning abruptly towards her brother, she tried to keep the scowl off her face and failed.

"What?" Fil asked confused by her expression.

"Can you explain to me the portal to Oblivion that you created, little brother?"

Fil's thoughts raced back to the moment the spell released and his consummate horror and thrill at its power. "Yes… the spell. Well…"

Riandr growled softly.

"All right. All right." Fil shook his head. "You know one of the arts I was always eager to study was the art of Rune Embedding. I was able to do that at the College of Winterhold. I poured over tombs for weeks, months! Olag and I became best friends. Well as close as one can become to an ill-tempered, literature obsessed Orc!"

"Olag?" Myllian interrupted.

"The librarian. Big Orc. Powerful mage. We share the same love of books. Though he would kill to protect a manuscript, I'm not sure I would go that far." Fil paused, then added, "Well, depending upon the tome…"

"Fil," Riandr sighed.

"Oh yes, sorry." Fil shrugged again. "Well, after months of study I decided to try some myself. I embedded some small spells, stronger wards, lightening spikes, more powerful fireballs. I chose the more mundane spells but I made them stronger, more powerful and less of a drain on the mage!"

"Wait," Myllian interrupted again. "What does… Rune Embedding do?"

Fil grinned, excited to discuss his passion. "It's an art. Truly. The mage can imbue some of his power, his magicka into a written rune. Each rune can hold a portion of the mage's strength indefinitely. The mage can create the written spell, filled with his power and when needed, like in the tomb, he can read the runes on the scroll and release the spell with little to no draining of his own magicka enabling him to fight for a much longer period of time before being drained and exhausted. The problem is no one practices the art! It's so simple and incalculably helpful to a mage, yet not even the college offers tutelage in the art."

"Isn't that just like a spell on a scroll?" Myllian asked innocently.

Fil's eye's narrowed into tiny slits. "No," he growled softly, "it is not _just like a spell on a scroll_. A scroll is a spell, yes. But its power is determined by the _words_ on the scroll. Rune Embedding gives the mage almost unlimited power depending upon the amount of magicka the creator of the runes stores in the _symbols_."

Myllian glanced at Riandr who was doing her best not to laugh. She was still uncertain as to the difference between the two, but decided to nod and pretend she was clear on the subject. "How long do these runes hold their power?"

"Indefinitely as far as I can tell. The spell I used in the tomb I created a couple of years ago. On a whim. I had not had a reason or the courage to use it before then."

Riandr watched her brother's face as he spoke. She could tell how much he loved sharing his knowledge with Myllian, but she could also see the underlying guilt tearing at his conscious. "Brother, did you know how powerful that spell would be?"

Fil glanced at his sister, then back at the flames. "No… yes… I guess I…wanted to see how far I could push myself, how much I could embed in the runes. How much power I could evoke."

Riandr nodded, she understood that at least. Her brother was a very gifted mage, not a gift she shared. What they did have in common was the desire to constantly hone their crafts to perfection. Still she wished her brother's drive had not caused him to suffer this weight he now carried. Then a thought struck her, "Brother, do you have other spells like that?"

Fil took a moment to respond. "A few. Yes."

Riandr had to admit Fil's spell had saved their lives and allowed them to finish their mission, but at what cost? She glanced at her brother as he stared into the flames. His hair was as black as hers, but cut short, curling in wanton abandon around his face, giving him an air of youthful innocence. It was a look they had as children, used to their advantage.

But now, seeing his torment, watching him trying to hide his remorse and failing, she felt ashamed. She had drafted him for this mission, selfishly wanting his company, missing her brother. What if during this contract with the boy, her brother lost what little innocence he had left? As she had none left herself, she hated to see it vanish from him.

Fil shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with Riandr's prolonged gaze. To distract himself as much as her he reached into his satchel, pulling out the rune etched stone he had found on the mage. "Found this in that tomb as well. Don't know what it is." He passed it to Riandr.

"It is not a script I am familiar with. Aldmeri?"

Fil shook his head. "No. I'm familiar with all of their languages, even the dead ones. Not theirs."

Riandr handed the stone to Myllian. "What about you?"

The warrior took the stone from Riandr, turning it over and over in her hand. "Not like anything I've ever seen." She tossed it back to Fil.

"Curious brother. We also have no clue as to why the Imperials were there. I think we can safely assume they were after the pieces the boy took. But why? How did they know about them? What do they do?" Riandr's tone grew increasingly frustrated as she spoke.

"It is safe to assume from that missive that the Thalmor know of the shards as well. I wonder if they know what the pieces do, or do they simply know they hold power?"

"Thalmor, Imperials, little boys. Who else do we need to be wary of?" Myllian growled softly.

Fil grinned at Myllian and then frowned as a terrible thought crossed his mind. "Gian's with the boy. What do you think they are doing for the next three weeks? What is he doing with her?"

Riandr glanced at her brother, a flash of fear crossing her face. Good gods what was happening to the healer? "He did not seem to wish her any harm. He appeared almost as protective of her as she was of him." At least, Riandr thought, she hoped he had.

Fil rubbed his eyes, groaning softly. "We have so many questions and so few answers and nothing will become clearer tonight, sister. Might as well get some sleep."

Riandr motioned toward the tent. "I'll take first watch. You two get some sleep." Myllian nodded and crawled into the tent, asleep as soon as her head hit the dead necromancer's pillow.

"Wake me for second watch, sis." Fil dropped to a spot by the fire and curling into a ball fell fast asleep.

Riandr gazed up into the night sky. The stars shone brightly in the darkness. She moved to the tower's edge, gazing south. Even though she couldn't see it in the dark, she knew Falkreath lay just south of them, less than a morning's walk. Tomorrow they would search for a tomb for Fil, then work their way to Falkreath. They still had more than two weeks to wait for the boy's arrival. Until then they could keep themselves busy doing odd jobs in the city, or search the surrounding area for forgotten crypts. There were always mercenary jobs available in a city of Falkreath's size. There would be work to keep them busy, to keep their minds off of what they might be doing. It would also allow her time to ponder who the boy might be and what he was trying to accomplish.

'And…' she had to admit to herself, 'it will give me time to decide what to do.' She chuckled softly in the darkness, overwhelmed by the feeling that someone other than herself controlled her destiny. But ultimately what did it matter? As long as Fil was safe, her destiny was unimportant. She turned from her contemplation of the stars to stare at her brother's mop of curly black hair. Yes. Falkreath would give her the time she needed to figure out what the boy was up to and then decide on a course of action. She needed the time to develop a plan that might let her keep her life, while keeping Fil safe. However in the end, her brother's life was the only priority, if she decided against the boy, to betray the Nightmother and follow the demands of her conscience.


	10. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

The morning dawned bright and clear. Riandr rose to the sound of bird song and her brother's soft laughter.

"You don't think I would, warrior?"

Myllian's laugh held amusement and challenge. "Give it a shot, mage. It would be amusing to see how you handle the advance of my blade."

Riandr poked her head out of the tent to find Myllian sitting on the four foot high section of wall that ran along the edge of the broken tower, her legs dangling over the side. Fil stood next to her, peering over the edge at the forty foot drop to the ground. Pale as his imperial complexion was, he grew even paler at the sight.

"I am simply suggesting,' he backed away from the edge, his stomach churning in an uncomfortable way, "that with a gentle push, you might find the drop… unsettling." Fil grinned, his traitorous stomach much improved away from the fall.

Myllian laughed. "Again, mage, I suggest you give it a try…" the smirk she offered him made Riandr laugh.

"She will have your head off before you can touch her, brother," Riandr offered as she moved from the tent to the campfire. "I advise you to back away while you still can."

Fil raised his hands in submission. "All right, I give up. You two win."

"Of course we do." Myllian laughed as she directed her attention back to the path below her.

Riandr grabbed the bowl and scooped some of the remains of the stew into it. She reached for a hunk of bread to eat it with, and then moved to Myllian's side.

"Nice day, boss. Not far from Falkreath either." Myllian pointed to the southeast where the roofs of the city of Falkreath could be seen. "Be there by noon if we don't run into any… delays." She glanced at Fil.

Riandr nodded. "Brother," she paused, waiting for Fil to finish inventorying his potions. "I will leave this decision to you. Straight to Falkreath, get a lay of the city, perhaps score a job? Or rummage blindly through the wilderness looking for a long forgotten tomb?"

Fil shook his head, chuckling. "Well, since you put it that way!"

Riandr returned his grin, taking a big bite out of her stew soaked bread.

"We might as well head for the city." Fil shrugged. "We may find someone in need of tomb raiders! We could pillage the place and make a profit on it."

Myllian turned back into the tower and dropped to the floor. "Well, well! I am impressed. A mage with an ounce of common sense!"

Fil sent her a mocking expression. "Thank you again for your continued love and support of my calling. You are a true Nord, My."

The look of joy on Myllian's face could not have been greater. "Thank you, Fil! That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me."

Fil glanced at Riandr, holding back his laughter. Neither she nor Fil felt being called a Nord was complimentary, but she had no desire to hurt Myllian's feelings. Apparently neither did Fil as he bit his lip while they gathered their belongings. Working their way out of the tower and down the path, they returned to the road heading south to Falkreath. The early morning sun was warm on their backs and the sound of bird song filled the air. Fil continued his discussion of the properties of the local flora, eager to give Myllian any knowledge he could. Especially if that knowledge might one day save her life.

He paused next to a large outcropping of rock. The boulders hung over the road, forming a ledge high above them and a small shadowed gully by the roadside. The shadows offered a dark, damp environment perfect for growing the mushrooms he needed. He was about to show Myllian the difference between Imp Stool and Namira's Rot when he was startled by the distinct sound of a bow string being drawn. They turned to find a Dark Elf standing on the opposite side of the road, bow drawn, with an arrow notched and ready for release.

Riandr took a second to assess the man. He was tall for a Dark Elf, a good head taller than she. He had dark hair, with a slight auburn tint. Most of it hung free laying carelessly about his shoulders, but the top portion was pulled back in a tail. His face was strong, the traditional enlarged bone mass above his brows, grey skin and ruby red eyes loudly declaring his Dark Elf heritage. He had a thick goatee often favored by Elves in the middle of their long lives. He wore a light brown leather cuirass and boots. His shoulders were fairly broad, his arms and legs muscular, which surprised her. The Dark Elves she knew were thinner, usually more closely resembling Fil than Myllian. All of this Riandr register in the instant it took her to take a step back, into the shadow. There was nothing about the man's stance that suggested aggression toward them. 'Still, best to be safe,' she thought as she melted into the cool shade.

As soon as he heard the bow being drawn Fil had flicked his wrist conjuring a flame spell; Myllian's hand had flown to her axe. Before either of them could charge at the Elf he raised the bow above their heads to the rocky overhang. The arrow sprung from his bow with a sharp twang. It disappeared over their heads and ended its flight with a loud thump. They heard a muffled growl and stared in surprise as the body of a troll dropped off the overhang above them to land at their feet on the stone road, a burning arrow protruding from the troll's chest.

They exchanged glances, embarrassed to be caught off guard and relieved at the Dark Elf's skill. The Elf replaced his bow and bowed from the waist. His tone was casual as he said, "Hello. Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Drenn Telvanni. I hope I didn't frighten the two of you; however I did not want that beast attacking. Though from the look of things," he nodded toward the fireball in Fil's hand and Myllian's Dwarven axe, "a single troll would not have stood a chance against you."

Fil flicked his wrists and doused the flames; he couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. The Elf was skilled, amiable and complimentary, so of course he instantly liked him. "Not with my friend here, no we wouldn't, but thank you for the help. Name's Fil."

The Dark Elf nodded in greeting.

"Myllian." The warrior nodded but kept her axe in hand.

"Nice to meet you both. I apologize, warrior," Drenn glanced at Myllian, "if I stole your battle. Believe me I had no intention of offending you."

Myllian nodded, only slightly mollified by his apology.

"Are you headed to Falkreath?" Drenn asked.

Fil nodded. He didn't see the harm in offering up that information to the Elf that had just saved, if not their lives, at least saved them from a tedious battle. "You?"

Drenn nodded. "Have some hides to sell and I hope to find work." He moved toward the troll, crouching down, assessing the integrity of his arrow. He pulled a dagger from its sheath by his side, digging around the arrow head, loosening it from the troll's flesh. Fil moved to the opposite side of the beast.

"Do you mind if I remove some fat? Troll fat is very powerful; I always try to keep some on hand."

Drenn nodded. "By all means, take this." He handed the mage his dagger. "I am an archer by trade. Fairly talented one if I do say so myself. But I also dabble in the mystic arts."

Fil motioned to the Elf to help him turn the troll over, exposing his belly. He plunged the dagger in just below the stomach, but above the intestines. Cutting a square of flesh loose, Fil turned the skin over and scrapped as much of the subfat as he could from the beast's flesh, capturing it in a small wooden, wax lined box he carried. He finished by wiping the blade clean on the troll's fur, handing it back to the Dark Elf.

"Dabble? That's all? I find that surprising."

Drenn grunted. "Why? Because I am Dunmer? A Dark Elf?"

Fil shrugged. "Well… yes! Elves are particularly gifted with magic. Elves and Bretons."

Drenn sighed. "My race is… yes. Sadly I was not gifted with that particular genetic trait."

"Really?" Fil's expression held surprise and curiosity. "I didn't know that could happen. I thought it was a bloodline gift. An instinct for your people. Something given to you by…"

Drenn stood abruptly, obviously annoyed. "I know what you think. I know what everyone thinks. 'Must be something wrong with him, no skill with magic? He must have been punished by the gods! A discarded failure!' Believe me; they are never shy in expressing themselves or their amusement at my expense."

"Oh no!" Fil stood as well, shaking his head. "I meant no offense. You just saved our lives," at Myllian's grunt he added, "well… sort of. I truly didn't mean to offend you."

Drenn took a deep breath, calming himself. "Sorry then, friend. I have heard the comments, listened to the disappointment in my parent's tone, seen it on stranger's faces. No Dunmer wants to know me; no Dunmer woman will be with me. It is difficult enough to not have the mage skills my entire race holds, but I am rejected by them because of it. I have grown tired of the rejection. So I wander the wilds of Skyrim, practicing my skill as a bowman and trying to improve my skills as a mage." He gazed down the road as he spoke, his eyes slightly glazed by the memory of centuries past and then with an embarrassed sigh he turned back to Fil. "In any case, the beasts of the wilds do not judge me, though they are learning to fear me," he said with a wicked grin.

Riandr couldn't help the smile that covered her face. That explained a great deal. The widened set of his shoulders, his more powerful arms and legs. This was an interesting Elf! She chose that moment to step from the boulder's shadow.

Drenn froze for an instant, unaware of her presence until then.

His eyes narrowed, surprised at the woman's ability. His Elven eyesight should have pierced the shadow with ease. How had she avoided detection? Was she Elven? Was it magic? Without taking his gaze from her he could tell from their reactions that both Fil and Myllian were not surprised by her presence. She was their companion then and a woman of some ability. Drenn found himself infinitely curious about her. He raised an eyebrow and offered her a grin filled with both the acknowledgement of her skill and his own curiosity of it. He bowed in respect. "My lady, I apologize for my rudeness. I must admit I did not know you were there."

"Well that is the intent of that particular skill." She pulled the hood from her head and smiled at the Elf.

'Not Elven then,' Drenn thought. He took in her pale skin, dark hair and piercing blue eyes. It took him less than a breath to register that the mage and this woman were brother and sister. Voice, carriage, bone structure, so much alike, possibly twins? She continued to stare at him, sizing him up and the thought crossed his mind that she did not seem to mind what she saw. It was interesting to find a human with her level of skill, however human or not he was impressed and that did not happen often. With a chuckled he said, "That is a skill I should very much like to learn."

"Hey, Ri…" Fil did not need to finish his question.

"I am Riandr, Drenn. Thank you for the assist with the troll. We are headed to Falkreath, if you would like to accompany us." Riandr offered their companionship, admittedly intrigued by the Mer. She had known many Dark Elves in her life. Most of them made fine thieves. But all of them had depended on their magicka to the point of laziness in their other skills. Riandr had not respected the trait. This Dark Elf though appeared to be different. His lack of magicka making him more driven, more accomplished. Besides his bowman skills might well come in handy if they attempted another tomb on the way to Falkreath.

"Thank you, Riandr. I was heading in that direction myself. I was hoping to find work, perhaps hear rumors of a tomb or cairn. It never hurts to stumble across hidden treasure."

Fil's face lit up at his words. "You too?! I love stumbling across treasure! What are your favorite places? Nord burial cairns? Dwemer ruins? I like the dark places… caves… dungeons…"

The men fell into an easy banter and headed off down the road, their discussion of tomb raiding displacing the soft songs of the birds. Myllian and Riandr followed at a short distance. Their eyes, filled with laughter, never strayed too far from the forest surrounding them and their companion's backs.

At a fork in the road they headed south. The sun, now high above them, was growing steadily warmer. A gentle breeze followed them as they began the decent into the valley where Falkreath lay. The tall forest trees and shrubs lined the road, making a perfect spot for saber cats and bear to hide, however they continued on, unmolested. The road grew considerably steeper, with thick walls of woven tree branch and vine, randomly constructed on either side. Riandr imagined carts had difficulty along the stone road's uneven terrain and steep slope. She expected many a trader had been grateful for the wooden barricades.

It was almost noon when they came upon four large stone pillars near the road. They stood close to one another, rising ten feet into the air. Rounded and coming to a soft point at their apex, they were covered in vines and moss. She did not doubt for a moment that Fil would want to explore whatever mystery they held.

Without glancing her way, Fil and Drenn moved quickly toward the stones, their curiosity peaked. Fil ran his hand down one of the pillars, feeling the warmth of the sun on its moss covered surface. He gestured to a path through the stones that led a little further off the road. Drenn peered through the trees, the outline of a stone ruin beckoning to him through the dappled sunlight.

Fil turned to Riandr, the question unspoken. She grinned at her brother and after rolling her eyes in annoyance, moved onto the path, following his lead. They had not gone far when the trail opened up to expose the face of the ruin. It was a half circle entrance, made of stone. The apex of the opening stood twenty feet high and arched over an open landing. Further in they could see a stone wall with narrow slits that offered a view of the ruin's wooded interior. A small set of stone steps led up to the landing. A thick stone support ran down the center of the landing, splitting the entrance in two. Lying at an unnatural angle on the steps was the body of a Nord man, his scale armor covered in blood.

Riandr dropped into her instinctive crouch. She glanced at her brother, her eyebrows raised. Fil nodded. The sight of the dead Nord was a bit startling; however all it did was confirm that the ruin held a deadly threat. Something they had assumed anyway as all Nordic ruins held some form of vicious creature. It was Skyrim after all. Fil motioned to Drenn to move silently right, to the opposite side of the opening. He chose to move to the left, covering the steps from both sides. Myllian silently withdrew her blade, following Drenn, while Riandr kept close to her brother. They made it to the stairs uncontested. Fil moved to the Nord's side, checking the man's pockets. A few septims and an iron dagger was all he found. Riandr moved to the landing, her steps silent, her senses straining to catch a sound, any sound that might indicate to her what they faced. The loud buzzing of insects made her frown. She turned to Fil, her eyes narrowed and he tried to respond with a grin. He flicked his wrist, flames erupting from his palms. His grin seemed to say, 'Spriggans weren't so bad, if you were ready for them.'

Riandr turned her attention back to the corridor in front of them. It circled around the inner chamber, empty except for the dappled sunlight that shone through the openings in the chamber walls. She glanced at the interior not surprised to find it a haven of flowers and shrubs. Bird's sang from the lone tree that grew another twenty feet out of the open roof of the ruin, butterflies danced in the sunlight that streamed into the ruin's interior, creating a beautiful if almost surreal image of peace and serenity. The sharp buzzing of insects reminded her that the pristine beauty was protected by a vicious killer. Her blades in hand she continued moving forward, Fil at her side.

They had almost reached the back of the ruin, where the largest opening to the interior stood, when the buzzing suddenly grew louder, the only indication that the creature was aware of them. The spriggan stepped from the doorway, her body a twisted mass of roots and thorn, the vibrant green energy of the magicka that gave her life, causing her to glow brightly in the darkened corridor. She turned to Fil, her wooden face fixated on the flames in his hands. Fil mumbled the final words to his spell, readying himself to thrust the fireball into the spriggan's face, when she shrieked. Her body became rigid and she dropped to the ground, landing on her knees, her head bowed. For a moment Fil stared at the creature, confused, and then he saw the second arrow fly from the Dark Elf's bow. The bolt was covered in flame as it embedded itself into the spriggan's back. She let out another agonizing shriek and then crumbled to the stone floor, dead.

Riandr glanced at the dead spriggan and then at the Elf. "Nicely done." She nodded to Drenn.

"Thank you, my lady," he said with a bow.

"Hey! I had my spell ready," Fil grumbled.

Myllian smirked. "Now you know how I feel!"

Riandr moved toward the opening in the wall, her gaze covering the chamber. The buzzing had ceased which led her to believe there had been a single spriggan sheltered here. However it never hurt to be safe. The quiet room gave no indication of another life, so she cautiously stepped into the chamber. It felt as if she stepped into a dream. Sunlight flooded the small dell, its rays of gold covering the glade in warmth. The birds returned to their song, and a gentle breeze played with the ferns causing them to sway to the bird's tune. A riotous explosion of flowers covered the ground in a rainbow of colors, their warm, delicate scent filling the air. She moved to the tree in the center of the room and placed her hand on its truck. The bark was warm and rough beneath her fingers, and she momentarily regretted having to kill its vigilant protector.

It took Fil only a moment to find the chest hidden in the brush. Drenn quickly joined him in opening it and pilfering its contents. Myllian followed Riandr to the tree, glancing around the ruin.

"I must admit, they do create great beauty." Myllian gestured to the garden surrounding them.

Riandr nodded. "They do. I have often wished their nature were not so violent. But they are what they are, manifestations of the forest itself. Most beasts by nature are violent. That is what has kept them alive."

"Not bunnies. They're not violent." Myllian offered.

Riandr laughed. "Possibly, though I have never cornered one to find out."

"Hmm…" Myllian mused; raising her fingers to her mouth she made a gesture that suggested fangs. "They do have nasty, big, pointy teeth."

"Hey, Ri," Fil called before flinging a book at her which she caught with ease. "You want that?"

"A Catalogue of Weapon Enchantments," she read aloud. "Yes, brother. Thank you. It is probably a primer but you never know."

"This looks interesting," Drenn said excitedly, pulling a dark green bottle from the chest and holding it up to the sun.

"Potion of stamina from the looks of it," Fil offered.

"Perhaps the warrior would like it?" Drenn asked the group.

Myllian shrugged. "Sure, if no one else wants it."

Fil reached into the chest, taking out another large bottle. This one was yellow, with a strip of thick iron solder sealing the stopper tightly. "Oh yes, very nice."

Drenn whistled in appreciation, "Potion of strength. Very nice indeed."

"For Drenn, ladies?"

Riandr and Myllian nodded while Drenn tried to protest. "That is too much! I am simply tagging along. It is your expedition, not mine."

"Nonsense." Fil loved playing the part of benefactor. "You killed the spriggan, makes sense that you get the most valuable swag!"

Drenn stammered a thank you.

"I'll just toss these few coins into my bag for Ri and I. Our small share as it were."

Drenn nodded approval and standing moved to Myllian's side. The skeletal remains of a human lay at the tree's base, partially hidden by brush. "It appears a fellow adventurer did not fare as well."

Myllian sighed. "He should have had a bowman like you with him."

"Or a warrior with your skill! Your blade is quite impressive."

"Thanks!" Myllian grinned. "It's helped me lob off a head or two."

Shaking her head and grinning at Myllian, Riandr moved from the ruin, working her way back to the road. Her brother caught up with her, matching her steps, while Drenn and Myllian followed behind, comparing potions.

"You did that very nicely," Riandr murmured.

"Thanks, sis." Fil grinned.

"Good sum of gold?"

"Oh yes. Much more than those potions are worth."

"Hmmm…" Riandr glanced at the forest around them. "I thought as much."

"Besides," her brother added with a chuckle, "I can craft both of those potions myself."

Riandr laughed at that. "You can take the man out of Riften…"

"But you can't take Riften out of the man," Fil finished.

She punched her brother gently in the shoulder. It might seem strange to others, but she was always very proud of her brother. He had a good heart, but even better instincts.

They continued down the road, enjoying a light banter. Nothing else disturbed their journey and it was shortly after midday when they reached the fork in the road that would lead them to the entrance to Falkreath. The road they were on continued south, slowly rising as it worked its way up another mountain. But they took the left path that led down a small hill and into town. A large wooden balustrade covered the entrance to the city; two guards walked its planks high above them, watching as they approached. Another guard leaned against its base to the left of the entrance, for all appearances bored and annoyed. As they approached he stood and moved to block their entrance.

"Did you see a dog out there?" His accent was strongly Nord and his tone belligerent.

'Are all guards the same?' Riandr wondered, not for the first time.

"No," Fil answered politely. "A few wolves, but no dogs."

"Ah well. The blacksmith is offering a reward for a dog he saw on the road. I was hoping you'd seen it. Guess I'll stay on the lookout." He turned from them and returning to his post grunted loudly, "Keep your nose clean while you're here, outsiders."

Myllian clenched her fists at the guard's rudeness, but did nothing. Decapitating a guard would probably land them in jail. Riandr would not be pleased with her if that happened.

Falkreath's main street lay before them. To their right stood Gray Pine Goods, a general store operated by Solaf and Bolund. Brothers to a woman Riandr and Fil knew well and sometimes liked. Fil motioned to the store and Riandr nodded. Might as well sell off what bounty they had and see if the boys might offer up some gossip.

Myllian motioned across the street. "Do you mind if I head to the tavern. I have an awful thirst and I could secure our rooms."

Riandr nodded. "Certainly. Valga is the Innkeeper. Mention you are with me and tell her I will see her shortly. But be careful, she will have you spilling all of your secrets to her in seconds."

Myllian worried for a moment, until she saw the grin playing with Riandr's lips. "Ok, boss. I'll watch myself."

"I think I'll head to the tavern with Myllian." Drenn added. "I have nothing to sell and no money to buy anything but mead!"

"Well put, Elf." Myllian grinned. "Let's go wet our throats."

"After you, fine warrior!" Drenn motioned to the tavern door and they headed off, anticipating a delicious cold quaff.

Fil and Riandr stepped up the wooden walkway and entered the Gray Pine Goods.

It took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the darkness of the store. Solaf stood behind the counter. Bolund stepped towards them, his face clearly displaying his disgust.

"I can't believe we let provincials like you wander Skyrim," Bolund said, his voice dripping with disdain.

Riandr ignored his barbed thrust. Bolund had always been a fool and an ass. Grelka, his sister, had a shop in Riften. Sold arms and armor. Her attitude toward strangers was the opposite of her brother. All Grelka cared about was how much coin you might have to spend, not where you were from or who you supported in this damn civil war. Her personality however, was just as scornful. It caused Riandr to wonder how condescending their parents had been.

She quickly gazed about the room, noting the exits, the valuables and where Solaf and Bolund stood. Bolund moved to the counter near his brother, refusing to be ignored.

"Another day in this graveyard."

"Falkreath is a fine place to be Bolund," Solaf replied.

"Falkreath is where people go to die. We could be fighting! Taking back Nord land!" Bolund said angrily.

"Falkreath is our home, a place where we have good jobs under a good Jarl. Until the war comes to us, we stay put," Solaf said softly, but emphatically. Bolund did not respond, instead he turned and left in a huff.

Riandr quietly registered Solaf's apparent superiority. Fil ignored the exchange, more intent on deciding what he wanted to sell to these obvious Imperial hating Nords. "How are you, Solaf?" Riandr moved to the counter.

"Not bad, Riandr, considering the state of things. Have you seen Grelka? Is she well?"

Riandr nodded. "Last I saw, yes. Frustrated with the economy, but then what merchant isn't?"

"True. Unlike my brother I have no dislike of strangers, met lots of them when I was a Stormcloak. Like my sister I know strangers have money. As do friends." He turned to Fil, grinning. "You sellin' or buyin' Fil?"

"Little of both Solaf. What do you have?"

"Take a look," Solaf offered.

Fil searched through Solaf's fine offering of weapons, apparel, potions and books. The weapons, though of good quality held little appeal to either Riandr or himself. He used his magicka and she would never part with Silence or her Elven blade. Though a Circlet of Eminent Alchemy caught his eye he decided the price was much too high and settled on a couple of grand soul gems and a few lockpicks. They were more for his sister, but it never hurt to have a couple on hand, no matter how pathetic his skill was. He offered up the few pieces he had decided he would sell, knowing full well he would not get a fair price for them. But they were bulky and annoying and he was glad to be rid of them at any price.

When the exchanges were complete, Riandr drew the conversation back to the war. "How does Falkreath fare? The war must be causing a great deal of havoc."

Solaf grumbled. "The Jarl's a good man. He has strong ties to the Empire and he uses them to make sure Falkreath is well protected and trade stays open. By the gods there's a guard on every corner! But most of the town's folk are still Nords, through and through. And we don't necessarily like what's goin' on."

"That's right," Riandr said, hoping to elicit as much information as possible about the status of Falkreath. "You were a Stormcloak, weren't you?"

"I was once, but not anymore. I was wounded in a skirmish up near Windhelm. This was years ago mind you. Now maybe I don't pick up a blade in Ulfric's name no more but I still hold with his ideals. Skyrim is Nord land and we oughta rule it. We don't need no help from the Empire on that account."

Riandr nodded. "I can't say I blame you in that respect. I don't believe a government should have the right to dictate to its people who they can worship," Riandr grew more agitated as she spoke. "Now they sit idle while the Thalmor destroy Talos' temples, take innocent people from their homes and commit atrocities where ever they go!"

Solaf stared at Riandr, surprised at her passion. "But you two are Imperials!"

Fil laughed. "We've never even seen Cyrodiil! We've lived in Riften all our lives. Besides, though my sister dislikes the Empire, it's really the Thalmor that she despises."

Solaf nodded. "Damnable Elves! Damn them to Oblivion I say! First thing Ulfric will do is disavow the White Gold Concordant, reinstitute Talos as a god and drive the Thalmor from Skyrim!"

Riandr nodded. "And not a moment too soon. Good people are disappearing every day while the Empire does nothing."

Solaf grinned at her. "No wonder my sister likes you. By the gods, you're a Nord!"

Riandr laughed. "I am certain your brother would never agree!"

"My brother is a fool. But that's probably not a secret."

Fil smirked. "No. Not really. You heard anything in town? Anyone looking for help?"

Solaf thought a moment. "Heard something about the Priest lookin' for some help. Can't remember why though. We had a murder a little while ago. Mathies and Indara's little girl. Got the guy locked up. Waiting for execution. Horrible thing."

"He murdered a child?" Riandr was shocked. She hoped this had not been a Dark Brotherhood contract. Her cell was mostly dead by her hand, but the other cells? Would they mark a child? The act was not forbidden, but it was generally accepted as unforgivable.

Solaf nodded. "Tore the poor thing to shreds. Barely found enough to identify her. Man's crazy."

Fil glanced at his sister, the hair on the back of his neck rising. "Good gods. That's horrible."

Solaf nodded. "Not much else going on in town. Been quiet, thank the gods. Hopefully the damnable conflict will stay away from here."

Riandr nodded, lost in thought. "I hope so as well. Thank you for your time, Solaf. Good luck."

"You too! And if you see my sister, give her my best! Don't bother to say Bolund does, she wouldn't believe it anyway." Solaf shook his head, grinning.

They stepped from the shop to find the sky had clouded over and a fine rain had started. "Wonderful," Fil grumbled. "Well at least we're spending the night at a tavern."

Riandr nodded. "I agree. I hate being out in the rain." She moved off the wooden planks and across the street toward the tavern. Fil followed her, stepping out of a guard's way as he made his rounds.

The guard turned to Fil and barked, "So you can cast a few spells. Am I supposed to be impressed?"

It took everything Fil had to move on without offering an indelicate response. He suddenly remembered why he had never liked Falkreath. One night would be all he'd spend in this infernal city, then off to the forest, searching for loot and getting out of the way of these damn egotistical, self-absorbed Nords. In their own way they were as bad as the Thalmor. They were just as entrenched in their own traditions and convinced of their own superiority. It infuriated him. He glanced around to see if there might be someone on the street who could read his thoughts. It would not do to anger anyone here. That would only in turn anger his sister and that was a risk he would not take. Riandr was quite forbidding when she was angry. Instead he put on his happy face and focused on the thought of a tasty pint of mead and a warm bed. Images of Hulda flashed through his mind and he grinned. He should try to get his own room, just in case there was a lovely maiden here, looking for a light romance with a dashing mage. He had not spent much time here in the past so he quite possibly did not yet have a reputation! The thought warmed him and he sighed. Given the right conditions, Falkreath might not be so bad after all!


	11. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

The door to the tavern swung open noisily, the ancient hinges groaning in protest. The warmth of the inn felt like a sunny summer day compared to the cold mist of the street. The tavern was full and the sound of laughter, the clank of glasses, cutlery and the bard's lute filled the air. They moved to the counter, looking for Myllian, Drenn and a pint of mead.

Valga, a Redguard who originally hailed from Cyrodiil, was both strong of build and of mind. Her opinions had, on occasion, gotten her into some hot water with the local Nords. Luckily she had the only tavern in town and Nords were never willing to let their pride get in the way of a good pint.

The innkeeper stood behind her bar, waving to them. "Ri, Fil! Come on in. We've got warm food, warm drink and warm beds."

Riandr gestured for a pint for her and Fil. "Did you see my warrior friend?"

Valga nodded. "Ya. They went to their room. Couldn't stand being around that idiot any longer." Valga pointed to a heavily armored Nord woman standing by the fire. Drunk and belligerent she swayed on her feet, grunting obscenities to the serving wench as she passed.

Riandr grinned. "Myllian did not kill her. That is good."

"Wanted to though," Valga laughed. "Can't say I blame her. Oh, I wanted to thank you."

"For what?"

"Valdr made it back safe. Too bad about the others. But that was good news at least."

"Valdr?" Riandr asked, confused.

"Yes. One of our hunters. Lost two of his friends but from what he told us you and Fil and your warrior friend saved his life. Then gave him enough treasure to help those poor dead hunter's families for years to come."

"Oh Valdr! I never did catch the man's name." Riandr took a sip of her mead, enjoying its sweetness.

"Ha! Just like you. Well the mead's on me friend. Thank you. We don't have that many skilled hunters left. We need every one we have."

Fil finished his pint and made puppy dog eyes at Valga until she poured him another. "Anything going on in town? Anything we might help with?"

Valga reached behind the bar, pulling out a folded parchment. "Here take a look at this. Some of the Jarl's men came by and left this bounty letter."

Fil opened the letter and almost spit out his mead when he read it. He handed the parchment to Riandr, trying to control his laughter. She scanned the script, almost as astounded as her brother. It read: _By order of Siddgeir, to all able bodied and fearless men and women of Falkreath. The dragon located in Ancient's Ascent has been carrying off livestock and terrorizing citizens and visitors. A handsome reward will be offered to anyone who kills it. _It was signed_, Nenya, Steward of Falkreath._ Riandr whistled softly.

"Kill a dragon?"

Valga shrugged. "I know! But you have to admit, there are plenty of fools who will try, just for the 'handsome reward'!"

Riandr nodded her tone incredulous when she added, "You would have to be a fool. Killing a dragon is impossible."

"Maybe for a milk drinker like you," the drunken Nord woman snarled. She had stumbled her way across the tavern to stand behind Riandr, breathing heavily.

Riandr glanced at the woman and in that instant saw sixteen ways to kill her without getting blood on Valga's clean floor. She turned her attention back to her pint, ignoring the drunk.

"What's a milk drinker like you doing 'ere anyway? Go home to your _mudder_." The Nord's speech was slurred, but the finger she shoved into Riandr's back was solid enough.

"Back off, little girl or I'll turn your lovely metal armor to slag." Fil flicked a wrist and let the brilliant red flame of a fireball fill his palm.

The Nord woman blanched for only a second then mumbled, "Damn mages. 'dey should all be destroyed!"

Fil stood; his temper as hot as the fireball in his palm. The Nord had the good sense to back up a step only to bump into Myllian. The warrior held her axe in front of her, its wicked blade gleaming in the firelight. "Do you have a problem with my friends?"

The Nord snarled. "Get out of my face." She tried to step to her left and bumped into Drenn, who stood smiling, gently tapping his dagger against his cheek. "Oh dear. I think our Nord friend here has a problem with our mage."

The woman growled loudly now. "Dark Elf! Ha! Damned if I back down from 'da likes of you!"

In the blink of an eye Riandr was behind the woman. She tapped on the sensitive points behind the woman's knees and she dropped like a sack of dirt. The drunk swayed on her knees, uncertain why she had fallen or why she suddenly could not use her legs. Riandr slipped the Elven blade from its sheath and rested it gently against the woman's throat. Her tone was cold as she said, "Now you have aggravated my friends and they have so much less self-restraint than I do." She pressed the dagger a little more firmly against the woman's throat until she heard the drunk's sharply indrawn breath. "The way I see it, the best conclusion to this scenario is I release you unharmed, you wander over to the corner table and I buy you a drink. You drink the drink and then go home and go to bed. You get a drink, you get a new friend and you get to live! What do you think of that?"

The woman nodded reluctantly. She might be a drunk and a bigot, but she wasn't a fool.

"Wonderful." Riandr slowly pulled the blade from the woman's throat. "Let me escort you to your table. I will even have the bard play a song for you. What tune would you like?"

The woman gulped. "Ragnar 'da Red?"

"Ah. A fine, if bloody tale! Here." She handed the woman the pint that Valga brought over, then she gestured to the bard. "Ragnar the Red, if you please." She tossed the man a septim and he gladly complied. She patted the Nord woman quite firmly on her back and then returned to the others.

"Nicely handled, sis," Fil commented.

"I agree. I was uncertain how we would explain her blood to the guards," Drenn added with a malicious grin.

"I could have hit her once at least. Just a little. Maybe broke her nose…" Myllian sighed.

"We have enough to worry about. Look at this." Riandr showed them the bounty letter. Drenn had the same reaction as she and Fil. Myllian's reaction was a bit different.

"A dragon! Oh Yes! Yes!" Her eyes glazed over in anticipation.

"Please tell me we are _not_ planning on killing a dragon?" Drenn asked his tone half joking, half serious.

Riandr glance at Myllian, wondering if her enthusiasm might be a cause for concern. "No. No dragon chasing. We are meeting a contract here in two weeks and he would not be pleased if Myllian showed up dead."

"I could always reanimate her. We might not notice the difference," Fil teased.

Myllian glared at him. "You do sleep, mage. Just a reminder."

"What this does suggest," Riandr glanced again at the missive, "is our treasure hunting might be a bit more dangerous than usual."

Drenn nodded. "Coming face to face with a dragon in the forest… might be more than the four of us can handle."

"Ha!" Myllian snorted. "Maybe for you!"

Riandr sighed. "Even for you my friend. They breathe fire and ice, they fly and they have jaws as large as a cow."

"But…" Fil started to interrupt.

"I am not saying we won't go looking for your tomb. I promised after all. I am simply suggesting we must be on our guard." They all nodded in agreement.

"Well at the moment we have no leads on a tomb and I'm starved." Fil patted his stomach. "How about we grab ourselves a meal and then check out the other shops, see if we can find ourselves a job?"

"Riandr, would you mind if I accompany you?" Drenn asked. "It has been… some years since I have had a chance to travel with others. Plus," he added with a chuckle, "I must admit, you three are the most fun I have had in a long time."

"Well you certainly need to make more friends!" Riandr laughed. "But of course you are welcome. Your skills with the bow will come in handy I am certain. Valga, what on your wonderful menu do you recommend?"

"Hmmm, I have a delicious venison stew. Or rabbit stuffed bread if you prefer."

Fil grinned. "Stew please, can never get enough."

"I'll have the rabbit, Valga. We will take that corner table."

"Certainly. I'll have Narri bring it right over."

They settled in the dark corner, drinks in hand. Narri was quick with the food, offering Fil a welcoming grin. Myllian tried not to burst out laughing. They were quiet as they ate, enjoying the food and quiet hum of conversation. The bard had begun to sing a Nord favorite that made Riandr pause and listen intently. _The Dragonborn Comes_. She must have heard the tune a thousand times before, but had never listened to it with the scrutiny she did now. Staring into the golden froth of her pint she wondered, who was this Dragonborn? Was her only purpose to destroy Alduin, World Eater, the dragon of prophesy who was to destroy all of Tamriel? Did Alduin even exist? Did the Dragonborn have a connection to the boy? Would she play a part in the civil war? Riandr took a long drink of the mead. There were still too many questions, and she was no closer to finding answers. Too be honest, she wasn't sure she knew where to look for them.

"Shall we split up and cover the town? We can take east and they can have west?" Fil suggested.

Myllian and Drenn agreed. "City isn't the size of Solitude certainly, but we can cover more ground that way," Myllian added.

"Sounds good. Remember to get details if someone needs help. Listen for rumors as well. Any leads to a local tomb will save us from hiking through the forest playing hit or miss."

They nodded in agreement. Riandr was finishing the last of her mead when an old man approached their table.

"You here to cause trouble?" The aged man glared at her over the top of the pint he held to his lips.

"No." Riandr didn't feel the need to elaborate.

"Well… unless you're looking to bury someone, this ain't the place you're lookin' for traveler."

"Bury someone?" Fil's look suggested the old man might not have his wits about him.

"Eh?"

"You said something about a burial?" Fil repeated.

"Yeah," the man muttered, "Falkreath is known for its graveyard. Largest graveyard in Skyrim, perhaps even all of Tamriel! Town started with a monument to The Battle of Sungard. Statue once stood on the spot where Kjoric The White fell in battle defending Falkreath from the First Empire."

"Hmmm…" Fil tried to fake an enthusiasm for the history lesson he did not feel.

"Yes, boy. Same spot where his son fell years later taking back the city. We in Falkreath take a great deal of pride in our history and our cemetery."

Valga came to the table to remove their empty platters. "Oh, Thadgeir, are you giving another of your lectures?"

Thadgeir sighed. "Falkreath was once full of wanderers and warriors like yourselves. Those were better days." He patted Fil on the pack and headed to the bar.

Valga watched him go. "He was a fine warrior once. An amazing man." She turned to Fil. "Consider yourself complimented mage. He doesn't take to too many. Something about you he liked."

"Can't imagine what," Myllian said with a grin.

Riandr turned to Valga. "I have heard it said that Falkreath is cursed. That is why it always seems to be raining here. What do you think?"

Valga sighed. "To be honest I wouldn't complain if we could string together a few sunny days now and then. But cursed? Nah. The problem with Falkreath right now is this damnable war." She glanced around to see if anyone was listening, then lowered her voice to a whisper. "Many say Dengeir was pushed to step down from being Jarl. Certainly Siddgeir is much more sympathetic to the Empire and the Empire's gold."

Riandr glanced across the room, noting the former Jarl Dengeir leaning against a wooden column, chatting with the young Narri. "How did Falkreath react?"

Valga shook her head. "Took it in stride mostly. The sad part is it's us commoners that have to work day and night just to keep the city alive. None of the new Jarl's gold ever sees its way into our pockets. Our taxes are some of the highest in Skyrim. The only benefit we've seen is an increase in the guard."

Riandr nodded. "Noticed that when we came into town."

"Not local guys are they?" Fil asked. "They have a bit of an attitude about them."

Valga laughed. "Yes you could say that. They feel more like the new Jarl's private militia than guards here to protect the citizens. Give me the creeps." She reached for the last of their plates and whispered, "All I know is if the civil war comes here, Ulfric won't find Falkreath completely unwelcoming." She let out a soft growl and as she walked away they could hear her mutter, "I escaped the fighting in Cyrodiil only to have it follow me here."

Myllian and Drenn stood. "We're off to the west side of town. We'll keep our ears to the ground and our noses out of trouble, boss."

Riandr grinned. "Thank you both. Good luck."

Fil stood, draining the last of the mead from his tankard. "Shall we?"

Riandr nodded. As they headed out of the tavern she couldn't help but glance at the old Jarl wondering how he had taken the loss of his position. If it had been her, she knew exactly what she would do. Ulfric would have one of the finest underground forces she could muster. She would slowly lure the tradesmen and shopkeepers to her side. She would ignore the nobles, they served no purpose. Tradesmen, shopkeepers, farmers, warriors, and if possible, some of the guard, kept in secret until the moment Ulfric's forces were ready to take over Falkreath. Then her army would rise up and take the city, minimal casualties, minimal fuss, assuring trade was uninterrupted. All of her efforts would be funded of course, by the Imperial gold she would steal from Siddgeir's septim-lined pockets.

Fil grinned at her as they crossed the street and mounted the stairs leading to the blacksmith. "You are far, far away, sis. What's going on in the brilliant mind of yours?"

Riandr grinned. "Saving the world again, little brother."

"If anyone could do it, Ri, it'd be you," Fil said emphatically.

Riandr burst out laughing. "What about this Dragonborn? I think she may be slightly more qualified."

Shaking his head Fil proclaimed, "I bet she has none of your cunning, experience or diplomatic skills. Whoever she is, she's just someone who got lucky enough to be born part dragon, if you believe the legends."

"Lucky…" Riandr wondered aloud. "I wonder if she would call it that." The sound of a hammer on steel interrupted her thoughts. The sound was so familiar, so comforting that her hands almost ached to hold a hammer. They rounded the corner of the porch to find the blacksmith bent over his forge. A piece of metal glowed fiery red as he placed it on the anvil, his hammer pounded into the piece with sure, steady blows.

"Good day, sir," Fil said.

The blacksmith raised his head and caught Fil's gaze in an intense stare. His voice was deep and forceful when he asked, "Did you see a hound on the road? Fine strong creature that's been wandering near town?"

Fil found he could not glance away; the man's gaze was too intense. "No, sir. The guard did mention you were looking for a dog."

"Hmm… I asked the gate guards to look for him. Can't afford to chase him down but could use a fierce loyal beast to keep me company. If you would be willing to retrieve him for me I would be willing to give you some fresh meat to attract him out on the road."

Riandr glanced at Fil, wondering if he truly intended to chase down the mutt.

Fil paused for a moment. "Uhm… sure. I guess I could look for him. If I head out of town that way…"

"Good. There's some gold in it for you if you succeed. Name's Lod." The blacksmith held out his hand. "My name's Lod. Not the dog's. I don't know what the dog's name is."

Fil's face froze as if he had been turned to ice. "Nice to meet you, Lod. I'm Fil. This is Riandr."

Riandr reached out and shook the blacksmith's hand all the while in complete amazement that Fil had refrained from bursting into laughter. "Your forge is impressive."

Lod nodded. "The finest weapons and armor." He said it without fabrication or bluster. It was simply, to him, a fact. Riandr instantly liked the man. Lod continued, "Steel's good but loyalty's better. I'm loyal to Dengeir first, the Empire second."

Riandr paused, finding the comment more than a little surprising. It added to her feeling that tensions were running high here in Falkreath. "Sounds like loyalty is important to you."

"I was Dengeir's personal guard for years. I risked my hide more than once to protect him. Why would I do that? For money? Because I swore an oath? No, it was because he was a good man. And a true friend. A true Nord places loyalty and honor above all else."

Fil wanted to add that often intense prejudice was a true Nord trait as well; however he bit his tongue instead.

Riandr moved to the blacksmith's table, inspecting his wares. "Falkreath seems quiet."

"Only inside the gates. Much of Falkreath hold is wilderness and there's plenty of trouble to be had." Lod pulled on the bellows, stroking the fire. "You two looking for trouble?"

Fil nodded, and then shook his head, laughing. "Not to cause it. More to resolve it."

The glance Lod gave him suggested he thought Fil's forge was not quite hot enough.

"What my brother means," Riandr added, "is we have some time on our hands and were willing to offer our services if anyone were in need of assistance."

"Ah. Sell swords." Lod returned his attention to his task, his interest fading. "I don't know of anyone looking for help. But if you are planning on heading southwest there's always the cairn out there."

"Southwest?"

"Hmmm…" Lod nodded. "Don't know whose it is, but get a lot of noise from the thing, scaring travelers. Seems like a dangerous place. Probably draugr and the like, maybe a treasure or two."

"Well, that sounds interesting. Thank you, Lod."

"Welcome." Lod nodded, never taking his eyes off his metal. "Only a hardy soul travels the roads these days. Good luck to you."

"Thank you and if we see your dog, we will definitely bring him to you." Riandr offered. She paid for the glass arrows she had chosen from his wares. They were of superior quality and though she didn't need them, she thought perhaps Drenn would.

"Good steel's worth every septim. Remember that." Lod added.

The Jarl's longhouse stood across the street. Tall and impressive in the center of town, Riandr noted the brush lining the building, the exterior's considerably aged siding and the lackluster guard standing by the front door. She wondered, a little abstractly, what the new Jarl spent his Imperial gold on, if not the maintenance of his hold and his home? In any case neither of them had any interest in venturing there so they continued on, the constant steady rain chilling them, until they came to the local apothecary, Grave Concoctions. Riandr grinned at the name. Falkreath at least had a sense of humor. In her travels she had had occasion to visit Gray Pine Goods and the Inn, but she had never made it this far into town. She hoped the resident alchemist was good.

They entered the shop and weren't surprised to find it a one room stone building. A bedroom lay to their right complete with bed, nightstand and bureau. In addition there was a small table with two chairs, a bottle of wine and loaf of bread laid out on top. A roaring fire in the fireplace kept the single room toasty warm. To their left was a counter, and behind the counter stood a lovely Redguard woman. The apron she wore was damp with stains of yellow and orange. Her hair was tucked up under a traditional fur lined cap. Fil smiled a greeting.

"Someone new? Perhaps someone looking for me to mix something up for them? Please come in. Browse as much as you like." The woman offered. "I am Zaria."

"Fil."

"Riandr."

"Don't let the shop's name frighten you away. I have plenty of reliable tonics and healing potions to sell."

Fil laughed. "Why name your store Grave Concoctions?"

"I know it's a bit strange. Not exactly a name to bring comfort to the sick and ailing who come to buy a poultice or a salve." Zaria shrugged. "What you must understand about Falkreath is that our town is defined, for better or worse, by the large and ancient cemetery here. That's why the inn is called Dead Man's Drink; the farm is called Corpselight Farm and so on. I suppose it's sort of a running joke."

"Are you originally from Hammerfell?" Fil asked. Hammerfell was the homeland of the Redguards. An ancient and regal people, they were usually skilled warriors like Myllian. He was surprised to find a Redguard with a penchant for alchemy.

"Yes. Though that was some time ago." Zaria grinned.

"What brought you here?"

She snorted derisively and then replied, "Well… my family didn't approve of my interest in lethal poisons and death in general. So I left and wandered north. When I found this town, with its huge cemetery I felt right at home. I opened this shop and I never looked back. This is where I belong."

"You have an amazing selection." Riandr had wandered over to the cupboards displaying her wares.

"Thank you. As I mentioned I have a keen eye for poisons and lethal agents. But I can mix a strong health potion or stamina potion if you're in need."

"What is this?" Riandr held up a dark brown bottle filled to the brim with a thick liquid.

"Ah… that's a new one for me. Blacksmith's Elixir. Improves your blacksmith skill for a short period."

"Improves your skill?" Riandr's eyes narrowed. She found that hard to believe.

Zaria's head bobbed up and down in assurance. "Truly! I traveled to Windhelm last year. Took a trip to visit the alchemist there. Brilliant man. Rude and belligerent, but brilliant. In any case he was willing to teach me a few things. He had created an elixir for Blacksmith's and for Enchanters. My creations are not quite as powerful as his, but I'm working on it."

Fil let out a soft whistle. "You trained with Nurelion? Now I am impressed."

"Oh, do you know him?" Zaria blushed. "I'm sorry if he is your friend. I didn't mean to be insulting…"

Fil burst out laughing. "Oh gods no! Not friends. More like colleagues. And I agree! He is a horrible curmudgeon."

"Well, sorry. I didn't mean…" Zaria paused. "So wait… you're an alchemist then?"

Fil nodded. "Mage first. But alchemy has always been a passion of mine. You must be very good if Nurelion agreed to work with you."

Zaria blushed again, her dark brown eyes smiling. "I learned a great deal in a short time. He's quite brilliant, but also very ill. His obsession with the White Phial will probably be his undoing."

Fil nodded. "I won't deny the thing exists. He has spent his entire life in pursuit of it. A worthy goal to be sure! To possess a vial that will refill itself spontaneously? It would be a priceless possession. But I doubt he will find it before his illness takes him. Quite tragic."

They were quiet for a moment, until Fil asked, "Is Quintus still with him?"

"Yes," she replied. "Poor kid, he is so hard on the boy. Quintus worships the man though. If Nurelion has a legacy besides his brilliant work, it will be to have inspired that young man."

Fil nodded. "Well said."

"I would like to take this. Do you have any of the Enchanter's Elixir?" Riandr placed the vial on the counter.

Zaria shook her head. "Not ready. Will you be in Falkreath long? I can brew one up for you if you'd like. It would only take a day."

Riandr nodded. "We should be here a week or so. I would love to try some out. If I get the results I want, I will order a few more before we leave."

"Wonderful. I'm sure you'll be pleased." Zaria wrapped the Blacksmith's Elixir in a soft linen clothe and placed it is a sack. "I should have your Enchanter's Elixir ready day after tomorrow."

"Then I'll be back. Thank you."

Zaria turned to Fil, a shy grin on her face. "Will you be staying in town as well?"

Fil nodded. His attention was caught by her assortment of poisons so he missed her smile.

"Then perhaps…" Zaria paused, trying to find the right words.

Riandr glanced at her brother and finding his attention on the poisons and not the alchemist, she poked him in the ribs.

"Oww… what?" Fil looked at his sister. She glanced at him and then nodded toward Zaria. Her brother seemed confused for a moment and then grinned.

"Zaria…"

"I was wondering…" They spoke simultaneously and then laughed.

"Zaria, you have an amazing laugh," Fil grinned, his eyes warm and inviting. "Since we are going to be in town a bit, I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner some time? I'd love a chance to chat about your time with Nurelion. See what you thought about some of his more esoteric studies. Maybe, get to know you a little better?"

Zaria grinned; glad he had read her mind. "I'd love that."

"All right then. We'll be back day after tomorrow for the vial. We'll make plans then?"

"Sounds lovely."

"Great." Fil reached for the alchemist's hand, giving the back of it a quick kiss. "I'll look forward to dinner then." He flashed his most charming smile.

As they left the shop, Riandr's sigh drowned out the sound of the rain as it splashed against the wooden porch.

"What?" Fil asked innocently.

"Really? Everywhere we go? You will run out of women one day, brother."

Fil shrugged, but his grin was mischievous. "Possibly. But what fun I shall have in the meantime." Her laugh echoed down the street.

"Hey, you two!"

They heard Myllian's call at the same time as the ground beneath their feet began to shake. "What in the name of the gods?" Riandr and Fil had a moment to glance at each other in surprise then suddenly the air around them was filled with a terrible roar. Deep and thunderous the sound seemed to echo around them and beat on them, vibrating through them. Despite decades of training, despite having faced death hundreds of time, dealt it even more, Riandr found herself frozen in fear. Her mind unable to process what she was hearing, what she was feeling. She tried to imagine what creature might create the massive shock waves of sound that surrounded them; what could create the thunderous roar that filled the skies and caused the ground beneath her feet to quake.

Then a woman screamed out the name she already knew it to be, but could not accept.

"DRAGON!"


	12. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Without realizing it they had moved further into the street, unable to stop themselves, driven by a fascination so powerful it consumed them. They glanced up; not wanting to see what they knew was there. To the west, across the village at the gate where they had entered Falkreath, they could see the dragon. It beat its dark leathery wings twice and landed with a crash on the roof of the balustrade. The earth shook when it landed, almost knocking them off their feet. For a moment it sat there casting its gaze about the village as if searching for something. Its dark scales shimmered in the rain, flashing colors of red, brown and gray. Boney spikes protruded from its head, wings and torso. It's dark red eyes seemed to moved lazily about the village, almost as if it were assessing their worth, then it reared back its head, emitting a roar so loud that Riandr fought putting her hands over her ears. But the roar was nothing compared to what happened next. Without warning a column of flame poured from the dragon's mouth. It shot out in a large steady stream that ended no less than fifteen feet from the monster. The flame's intensity was far stronger than any forge and washed over them like a hot summer breeze even as far away as they stood.

Riandr forced herself to breathe and found she had dropped to her protective crouch without realizing it. She glanced about, trying to focus on action, trying to ignore her fear, her only goal to find some form of cover that might possibly protect them from a monster of that size and power.

The villagers who had been caught in the street raced away from the dragon and its flames, their screams filling the air. The dragon watched them scurry away, its head cocked to one side, its expression curious.

Fil stood like a statue beside her, his expression showing only fascination at what he saw, his scholarly brain filled with wonder. "Absolutely magnificent," he murmured.

Then the dragon reared back, taking a long harsh breath. Once again fire burst from the beast's throat, covering the main street in flame. For a moment all Fil could hear was the dragon's deafening roar and the crackle of fire, then the flame halted and the screams of the dying reached them. Fil felt his sense of wonder drain from him in an instant, replaced by horror and fear. He turned to his sister, the shimmer of an ice spike spell instinctively alive in his palms.

Riandr shook her head emphatically. "You are _not_ going to battle a dragon, brother!"

Fil glanced at the dragon sitting atop the balustrade then back to his sister. His eyes still shown bright with fascination, but were tinged with a horrifying realization. "Listen, Ri… people are dying…"

She heard the echo of their screams as they bounced off the surrounding buildings and her heart sank. Her brother was right of course. These people were not equipped to handle a monster of that size. Gods knew she didn't believe she and Fil were either! But the animal had left them little choice. They could not abandon these people. Besides, where could they hide that might be safe from… that?

"Well, boss lady?" Myllian and Drenn had raced up the street to their side. Myllian's question was spoken so casually that for a moment Riandr wondered if the woman was sane. However the look she gave Riandr suggested that, not only was she sane, she truly believed in their party, believed in herself. She was fully convinced they could defeat this beast. Myllian and Drenn continued to stare at her, waiting for her signal. Attack or fall back?

She silently screamed. She was an assassin, damn it! Not a dragon hunter! She spent weeks, months sometimes setting up a mark. Planning. Preparing. She did not rush headlong into danger and death! That was what Fil did, and what she had spent a life time protecting him from. But she could see the expression on her brother's face and knew she was lost. He would fight the damn dragon with or without her. If she was going to protect him at all she had to come up with a plan and quickly.

She scurried back to the blacksmith's walkway, motioning to the others to follow her. They moved cautiously, working their way to the end of the building, using the blacksmith's as cover. Their position opened up a larger view of the beast. It had reared its head back and bellowed fire again. However by this time anyone who could move had already raced to whatever place they thought might be safe from the dragon's destruction. If they could not move, they were already dead. She could see two burnt corpses on the ground in front of the gate. Arrows flew through the air and embedded themselves in the dragon's hide, with little effect. The dragon seemed not to notice them at all. Riandr gave the guards full marks for their bravery, no matter how useless their attempts were.

She focused her thoughts, tried to suppress her fears. She needed a plan and fast or her brother would simply act. Peaking around the blacksmith's she noticed again the dragon's hide and girth. Their best chance to defeat the beast would be to weaken it. Get it to drop to ground level, and then attack it with sword and dagger. Not that her daggers would be much use against that hide. She would have to get in close… very close. Find a sweet spot. Do what damage she could there.

Trying not to panic at the thought of how close she would have to get to the beast, she glanced again at her brother, registering the frosty blue glow emanating from his palms. Motioning to them she asked, "Why ice?"

Fil spoke without taking his eyes off the dragon. "It breathes fire. From what I studied at the College, an ice attack just seemed… logical."

Riandr nodded. Thank god for her brother's passion for learning.

"Drenn," she called.

"Yes, Riandr?"

"Do you have an ice bow as well as that one of flame?" Please say yes, she prayed.

"My bow has both enchantments."

"What?" She turned to Drenn, confused. "That is not possible."

"It is." Drenn nodded. "My grandfather was a Master Enchanter. My father crafted this bow for me when I was five years old and my grandfather let me pick whichever enchantments I wished. What is more impressive to a child than fire and ice?"

"But… the focus… the concentration required…" Riandr whispered.

"Sis… dragon slaying now, enchanting lesson later?" Fil's tone was insistent.

"Yes! Sorry!" She poked her head around the building again, watching the demon breathe fire onto the roof of the tavern. A kaleidoscope of training and experiences were flashing through her mind. 'Ignore the fear,' her brain kept saying. 'Focus on its weaknesses, its arrogance. Use its strengths against it.' Well, its size was certainly one of its assets. She turned back to the others. "Then here is the plan. Drenn and Fil, you attack the dragon from afar with your bow and spells. Keep hitting the beast until it is forced to land. Then Myllian and I will take over."

Myllian's grin could have been seen a mile away. "That's more like it!"

"When it comes after us, we keep moving around the city, got it? Dodge and weave people. We will use the Jarl's house for cover. Keep moving around the building, using it for protection. Hit it and run. Hit and run! Is that clear?"

They nodded.

She glanced once more at the dragon who appeared to be sitting patiently on its perch, as if waiting for their attack.

"The beast believes its bulk is one of it strengths. Let us use the damn thing's size against it. If we can get it to drop, fall to the street, its massive bulk will hinder it in the tight space between the buildings." She turned to them, hoping they were listening, not frozen in fear. "We are small, fast and agile. We can not out-power the beast, so let us out think it."

Myllian and Drenn nodded. Myllian held her axe at the ready; Drenn's bow was cocked and loaded. Her heart stopped for a moment, frightened that her friends had so much faith in her, terrified that that faith would be misplaced. She suddenly remembered the arrows she had purchased from the blacksmith.

"Drenn!" She tossed the arrows to him.

He caught them and with a wicked grin, notched his bow with one of the strong and deadly glass arrows.

Riandr turned to Fil who stood watching her. "Ready, little brother?" She could feel her heart skip a beat.

Fil nodded. "Ready, big sis." He could feel his heart pounding; feel the fear coursing through him along with the electric energy of his magicka. His sister seemed to him, completely calm. She might as easily be planning a heist as coordinating a battle with a dragon. She had been this way since they were children, able to shut off her feelings, use her mind. The skill had always impressed him and filled him with confidence in her, his amazing sister. He grinned then, one of the grins he would give her before they would start on a dangerous heist she had planned. The one that said, 'You're the best. I'm the best. There's no way we can lose.'

Riandr tried to return his grin with limited success. Her brother was so sure of her, had always relied on her to stay calm, stay focused. If he only knew how very frightened she had always been. How she had learned to hide the fear, to focus on the goal. The goal of keeping Fil fed, safe, alive. Through the pain of their parent's murder, their life on the streets of Riften and then the Thieves Guild, that had been her mantra. Keep Fil safe. Keep Fil alive. Until the moment she joined the Dark Brotherhood. Nothing, not her own fears or her youth had prevented her from taking care of him. Glancing again at the dragon, the fear tried yet again to control her. She shoved it behind the wall she had created and turned instead to her brother, knowing she could not protect him if he grew careless or foolish. "Stay back, Fil. Use your long range spells. And Fil…" she grabbed his arm so he was forced to turn to her, to see the expression on her face. "No heroics. Got it?"

Fil shook his head. "No promises, sis." He knew what she meant, if she was in trouble, he was to stand back, not risk himself to save her. That was a promise he would never make. Besides, she knew the promise would be a lie, even if he said it.

Riandr growled in annoyance. But they had no time to argue. The beast had begun to grow bored and was shooting fire at the nearby buildings. She wondered if the tavern would survive. "All right people, stay calm, stay focused!"

They crossed the street to the Jarl's longhouse which seemed the best possible cover for their first attack, as the central road through Falkreath circled that building. She glanced up and down the street, searching the barren open spaces for protection. A wheel barrow sat there, an over turned cart there. All made of wood and easily set aflame. Cover would not be easy to find. Constant movement would be their only hope.

They swiftly made their way to the edge of the longhouse, all thoughts but the coming battle thrust from their minds. They stood barely forty feet from the beast. Its breathing alone was enough to cause the mind numbing fear to rise in her again. She was amazed that the balustrade still stood, with the entire weight of the dragon atop it. This close the beast seemed to be as large as the tavern. Its head alone was twice the size of an Orc. The beast could swallow a man whole and not even know it had had a snack!

There was no more time to waste; standing here her fear of the brute was only growing. The guards were still shooting arrows at the beast and its attention was on that small annoyance. She motioned to Fil and Drenn. The men stepped out onto the street, their spells and arrows at the ready. Moving to her brother's side she said softly, "Now."

As one Fil shot bolts of ice from his hands, straight at the dragon's head. Drenn let fly three arrows within seconds of each other, each arrow crackling with the ice spell from his bow. Fil's double spell struck the dragon straight between the eyes, causing the beast to pause for a moment, stunned. Drenn's arrows struck to the left, two hitting the beast's forehead having little effect, but one finding its home in the dragon's right eye.

The dragon threw its head back and roared in pain. The sound shook the earth beneath their feet, and destroyed their fragile courage. The dragon took only a second to orient on the cause of its distress, and only another second to open its mouth, drawing in an enormous breath, preparing to torch them alive.

"Run!" Riandr cried. Hardly needing the incentive, her companions turned with her and bolted up the street along the side of the Jarl's house. They ran as fast as their feet could carry them, lurching around the corner of the longhouse, putting the building between themselves and the dragon. The air around them was once again filled with a deafening roar, only this time it seemed to contain the sound of frustration. A predator losing sight of its prey. They could hear the beast extend its wings and felt their powerful thrust shake the ground as it lifted itself from its perch, in search of those that had caused it such agony.

They clung to the shadows of the building; using its darkness as cover. It didn't take long for the dragon to circle the village, bent on finding them. Though they could not see the beast from their cover, its loud bellows of rage and frustration made its location plain. It took a few moments for the dragon to drop onto the roof of the alchemist shop, the presence of a goat in the middle of the road a distraction it found difficult to resist. As soon as it opened its mouth to fry the poor animal, Fil and Drenn leapt from the shadows, hitting the dragon with everything they had. The beast once again lurched back its massive head and bellowed in pain. Before it could recover enough to notice where they stood, they had disappeared into the darkness, working their way along the building.

The dragon recovered a little slower after their attack, however it appeared the brute did not need to see them to try and roast them. They could hear the beast's roar, hear the deafening crackle of fire and feel the heat, even from the opposite side of the building, as it began breathing flame at everything in sight.

Riandr motioned for the others to follow as she made her way through the brush surrounding the Jarl's home. The town was going up in flame! If they didn't finish the beast now Falkreath would soon be nothing but ash and rubble. It was time for their final assault.

They reached the opposite side of the longhouse in seconds. The dragon was still intent on spewing fire where they had stood moments before. They stood now to the devil's left side, in what Riandr hoped was a blind spot, as little as fifteen feet from the beast, well within range of its hellish flames. Without hesitating she motioned to Fil and Drenn to make their last attack. The thought that she might be sending her brother to his death crossed her mind and she shoved it aside. Pulling Silence and the Elven blade from their sheaths, she nodded to Myllian. Their turn was coming.

The dragon's focus was intent on the street before him; he did not see Fil and Drenn at his side until their attacks hit him dead on. Drenn's arrows again flew true and embedded themselves this time in the tender part of the dragon's left eye. The Dark Elf's prowess was such that the arrows landed within inches of each other, tearing a gash in the flesh of its eye. Then Fil's spell hit. The power of Fil's ice spikes was so intense that the beast actually staggered to its side.

Riandr's heart raced for a moment when she thought it might fall from its perch; however it gathered its strength, let out a thunderous roar and beat its wings, taking to the air again. The men dove for the cover of shadow as the beast soared above them, circling the village, searching. Riandr motioned for them to move deeper into the shadow. She had thought for a moment that Fil's spell had ended the dragon. However, it had proven stronger than she hoped. Still, the fact that Fil had staggered it meant it was weakening. A weakened enemy was easier to kill; unfortunately it was also usually considerably more desperate.

They watched the dragon as it flew in a large circle above them, roaring its anger to the world. The city guard continued to shoot arrows at it, hoping to kill it. However they had neither Drenn's skill nor deadly arrows, so they only succeeded in adding to its annoyance. As it ended its loop to the east it suddenly turned in the air, to face the western gate. It tucked it wings against its body and plummeted toward the earth. Its massive weight increased its momentum and without the drag of its wings to slow it down it hit the city's paved road with the power of an avalanche. The force of its landing caused the ground to convulse, tossing the four of them into the air to fall on their asses. The shock wave of sound hit them next, smashing them against the building, rattling them senseless.

They sat in the shadow for a moment, each of them too stunned to move. Myllian recovered first, whether through her natural Redguard stamina or the sight of the beast lying in the street before her, Riandr could not tell. But the warrior leapt up and with a vicious roar of her own, raced toward the beast. It took a second for Riandr to gather herself and follow.

Myllian felt the axe in her hand, felt the rush of battle fill her. This was the moment, this was what it was all for! The years of training, of bruises and cuts, of building her muscles and her mind! What greater challenge could a warrior ask for than to battle a dragon? The sheer joy of the true warrior facing her greatest opponent in battle consumed her and her battle cry filled the city street.

The dragon though injured, was not deaf. Its tail, as thick around as a horse and covered in spikes of sharpen dragon bone, lashed toward Myllian. The Redguard rolled to her right, under the massive tail, and then leapt to her feet. She swung the axe in an arc, under and over her right shoulder. It sang as it cleaved through the air, vibrating with the same excitement that filled her. The fearsome blade struck the dragon on its hind quarter, slicing through hide, flesh and bone. The beast let out a bellow of rage and she couldn't help but respond with her warrior cry. It poured from her soul, proud and fierce and defiant. The moment was so pure, so passionate that those who watched the woman, who heard her battle cry knew in their hearts that Sovngarde had heard it as well, and recognized the call of one of their own.

Myllian pulled the blade clean and as the dragon swung its tail at her again, rolled back to the left. Leaping to her feet, she swung the axe through the air behind her, turning in a delicate dance that ended in thrust after thrust into the body of the beast. Myllian's movements were both beautiful and deadly. Blood began to spill from the dragon, coating the street with its life-force.

Riandr raced passed the warrior, intent on the dragon's eyes.

Drenn had had the right idea. Her daggers would do little damage to the thick hide, but its eyes were another matter. Without stopping to think her plan through, she raced to the beast's right front leg. Myllian's slashing was causing the beast enormous pain, but the street was narrow so it could not turn to attack nor could it extend its wings for flight. It had begun to frantically thrash about; it's terrible jaw snapping to the left and right. Riandr reached the dragon's front leg and leapt upon it, using the dragon's scales for footing. She was a trained thief and had scaled the side of many a building with less of a foothold than she had now, though she had to admit the buildings had not been thrashing about at the time.

She worked her way along the leg, making her way to its head. Its mighty jaws snapped within inches of her, but she had gauged the length of its reach correctly and stayed just out of range. By the time she reached the dragon's neck the beast was quickly weakening, Myllian's deep gouges draining the dragon of life. She scurried along the great beast's neck finding purchase at the base of its skull. She wrapped her legs around its neck, trying to ride the beast like a wild horse.

The dragon tossed its head even more violently. It could not reach whatever it was that was causing its haunches such pain and it could not bite whatever sat upon its neck. Its howl of agony and frustration echoed off the buildings.

Riandr gripped her legs even tighter cursing herself for a fool; holding on now was all she could do. If she lessened her grip on the dragon she would surely be thrown. Tossed across the city like so much garbage. All she needed was a pause, one moment where the dragon stopped to gather strength. Then she could move and plunge her daggers deep into the beast's brain.

Fil moved from the shadow, his attention caught by his sister. What the hell was she doing? He watched her leap upon the dragon's back, its snapping jaws just missing her. He held his breath as she worked her way up the beast's neck, his heart in his throat.

'And I'm the fool?' Fil growled to himself. He paused only a moment when he realized her predicament. The dragon thrashed its head so hard she would not be able to complete her task unless the beast was distracted. With a flick of his hand his spell began to glow icy blue in the darkened street. "Okay, one distraction, coming up," he murmured, and raced along the building intent on reaching the road in front of the dragon and hitting it in the face with his spell.

The next few moments happened so quickly that afterward they could not agree on how the events unfolded. Myllian paused in her deadly dance long enough to see Fil racing toward the dragon's head and then caught a glimpse of Riandr riding the dragon's neck like an angry stallion. She knew with absolute certainty that Fil was too close to those powerful jaws, that the moment the dragon noticed Fil, he would be dead. With every muscle in her body on fire, she heaved the Dwarven blade from the dragon's side and made one final lunge, hoping to destroy the beast before it could snap Fil in two.

Drenn reached for the last of his glass arrows, notching the bolt and taking careful aim at the crest of the beast's massive skull. It would not destroy the beast but would give Riandr something to grasp, to propel herself forward, so she could drive her daggers into the monster's vulnerable eye.

As he ran, Fil began the final phrase of his spell, aiming it at the dragon.

Out of the corner of her eye Riandr saw Fil racing toward the dragon's head. She sensed the moment the dragon spotted him and felt the beast rear back and prepare to lunge. She knew in her heart Fil was too close. The beast would have him. Without hesitation she tensed her body and propelled herself forward, aiming for the dragon's head, her daggers held tightly. She hoped the added momentum of her reckless lunge would give her the power she needed. She had one shot at the beast's brain before it would reach Fil with its deadly jaws.

Almost as one Myllian's blow struck and Drenn's arrow flew through the air, his aim certain. It was at that moment that Riandr leapt forward. Instead of hitting the dragon, Drenn's arrow struck Riandr, embedding itself in her back left shoulder. Instinct kept Riandr's daggers on course and they drove through the dragon's eye and into its brain. However the unexpected pain in her shoulder caused her to rear back, her grip on her daggers and the dragon, lost. The dragon blinded and in untold agony, thrashed its head forward toward Fil, trying to rid itself of the annoyance on its head and snapping its immense jaws at the mage. Riandr, her grip on the daggers gone, was flung from the beast.

As if in a dream Fil watched his sister sail through the air like a limp rag doll, watched in horror as her body hit the roof of a farm house and slowly drop to the ground, unmoving. Fil's cry of rage filled the air, and without conscious thought he drew his magicka to him in a rush of power so intense he began to glow and crackle with energy. With a strangled cry he released his spell of ice spikes, the power tearing through his body, filling him with a joy he had never before experienced; bursting from him with a strength he had not known he was capable of. His cry almost bordered on maniacal as the spell covered the dragon. The icy cocoon he created sizzled with a cold so intense it blazed a brilliant blue, as bright as the sun. It took only seconds for the spell to freeze the beast solid. As his spell ended Fil laughed. The laugh held no mirth, no joy. It was a low, fearsome sound. When he had finished, he crumbled to the ground, drained.

Myllian raced to Fil's side, the tone of his cry frightening her. Drenn ran to Riandr. He had seen where his arrow landed and he cursed his stupidity and bad luck. Riandr lay on her side, unconscious. He was overwhelmed with relief to find she still drew breath, ragged and shallow as it was. He rolled her onto her front; the arrow embedded in her back his first priority. Working swiftly, he said a quick prayer of thanks to the gods for her unconsciousness. This was going to hurt a great deal. She would experience it less comatose. He worked his dagger swiftly but carefully. Riandr was no laborer, no tavern wench. She needed both hands at full capacity to do what she did. He could not damage a single tendon or muscle. His concentration was such he did not notice Fil and Myllian by his side until the arrow came loose. He sat back for a moment and wiped his brow, sighing; flooded with relief at the cleanliness of the wound.

Fil, an arm flung over Myllian's shoulder as she held him upright, opened his mouth to speak, but as he did, the air around them was filled with a strange light. They paused and then turned toward the now dead dragon. Lights, a rainbow of color and brilliance, seemed to emanate from the dead beast. They danced about the dragon for a moment and then raced across the deserted street to cover the four of them in translucent light. They could feel their skins tingle as they were covered in a cloak of sparks. The light danced in the air around them, circling them and then with a soft whoosh, vanished. They glanced at each other, uncertain what had just happened.

Riandr's soft moan refocused their attention. "I have no magicka left. I can't help her…" Fil's tone was frantic. "We need a healer." He leaned against Myllian, unable to stand alone. His tone was desperate as he glanced around them, his exhausted mind hoping a healer might melt out of the shadows and offer aid.

"Out of my way!" A woman's voice echoed across the now almost silent street. They glanced in her direction surprised to see the alchemist racing in their direction. "Can you heal her?" Zaria's tone was tense as she took in Fil's pale face and utter exhaustion.

"I have no magicka left," Fil moaned as he pushed Myllian away and dropped to his knees, his frightened gaze never leaving his sister's unconscious form.

Zaria glanced at the dragon's frozen body, her admiration written plainly on her face. "I have no doubt. Then get out of my way and let me save the woman!" she chided him. She immediately set to work, peeling Riandr's armor from her torso, holding her hands over her open wound. The glorious soft gold of a healing spell swirled around Zaria and then covered Riandr, bathing her in the light of a summer sun. They could see the wound closing over, the muscle and skin knitting themselves back together. The tortured groans Riandr made reminded them it was a painful process. The strained look on Zaria's face clearly spoke of the toll it took on her as well. After a few moments that seemed an eternity, Zaria's spell ended and she dropped her hands, slumping forward. Drenn caught the Redguard before she landed on top of Riandr. She murmured a quiet thank you to the Dark Elf.

A crowd had begun to gather around the dragon. Farmers and merchants, nobles and cowards who now thought it safe to wonder over the dead mystical creature. Valga worked her way to their side, her eyes on Riandr. "Can you get her into the tavern? I'll get her settled in her room. We can keep an eye on her there. Get her away from the crowd."

Fil glanced toward the beast and saw that Riandr's unconscious form was beginning to draw curious onlookers. He nodded. "Let's get her off the street."

Drenn helped Fil to his feet, while Myllian lifted her friend as carefully as she could; using all her strength to not jostle or tear at the woman's wound. It took a few moments to get her into the tavern and a few more to get her unconscious body to drink Zaria's potion of healing. However Riandr's breathing was soon much deeper and less ragged.

When Zaria finally announce Riandr fit enough to let sleep, Fil dropped into the bed next to her, still drained from his spell. "I think I'll stay with her for now," he managed to murmur before he passed out.

Drenn shook his head as he stared at Riandr, his expression tortured. "It is my fault. All my fault."

Myllian patted the Dark Elf on the shoulder. "Don't say that. You know she won't see it that way and she'll be angry with you for wasting time on it."

Drenn pulled a chair from the corner and placed it next to her bed. "I'm going to stay here a while. Keep an eye on her."

Myllian sighed. 'Ah well, will probably do the Elf some good,' she thought. 'Help him feel like he's doing something to help her recovery.'

"Well, I heard them organizing a fire brigade. Thought I might help with that. Plus I'm going to head back to the dragon." Myllian added. "See if I can salvage anything from the corpse. She'll probably want some scales or bone when she awakens."

Drenn nodded without really listening, all his attention on Riandr's breathing.

Myllian grinned. "Check on the mage once in a while too?" With that she headed down the stairs back to the tavern's main room. As her foot touched the bottom stair a great cheer filled the room. Cries of "Warrior" and "Champion" were called out and Myllian glanced about, wondering who had entered the tavern. It took a slap on the back and a cold pint of mead shoved in her hand for her to realize that the cries were for her.

"Good gods, woman! Never in my day have I seen the like. You were incredible! All flash and fire, precision and skill! One of the finest displays of axe wielding I've ever seen!" Thadgeir pounded her on the back again. "Truly you are a warrior and an artist!"

Myllian blushed at the man's praise.

"Three cheers for our Champion!" Thadgeir cried out.

"Huzza! Huzza! Huzza!" The room echoed with their praise.

"May I?" Thadgeir motioned to her axe and Myllian reluctantly removed it from her back. Thadgeir turned the axe in his hands, admiring the workmanship, heft and balance. "By the gods this is a gorgeous weapon warrior and by the gods it needs a new name, fitting the weapon that took down that beast!"

"Well I didn't…" Myllian tried to remind the man that she hadn't killed the dragon alone, but Thadgeir ignored her.

"A new name for her weapon. A name to instill fear and demand respect! My friends," he thrust her Dwarven axe into the air so all in the tavern could see the blade, "meet Dragon's Doom!"

The tavern's occupants went wild. The cries of "Dragon's Doom" echoed in the rafters. Myllian's look of shy pride made Thadgeir grin as he returned her axe to her.

"Speech!" someone called out. The cry was picked up by other voices, pints raised in praise, fists pounded on tables demanding a speech.

Myllian paused for a moment. Her head swimming from the admiration, wishing her mother and father could be here for this moment. "Thank you! Thank you for your words and your regards." She stumbled for a moment, uncertain what they might want to hear and then decided to simply say what was in her heart.

"I was not alone in taking down the dragon. My friend Fil, a mage of great ability, Riandr a woman of tremendous skill with knife and blade and Drenn a man whose ability with the bow is unmatched. If not for them my small efforts would not have been enough." She raised her pint. "To my friends who risked their lives because others were in danger!"

"Huzza!" The tavern echoed, their fists pounding on the tables, demanding more.

"To the brave guard!" Myllian continued. "The valiant men and women who stayed in the street and continued to fight the beast knowing full well their weapons were not enough to take the dragon down. To their courage and fortitude!"

"Huzza!" The cheers were heartfelt, giving Myllian the impression that the town folk were quite surprised and honored that the guard had stayed to defend them.

"And finally, to those that fell in battle. May their spirits soar quickly to Sovngarde and be welcomed there with open arms!"

The entire tavern raised their pints and there was a moment of silence in respect for those that had fallen, and then the crowd broke into a thunderous applause that seemed to Myllian louder even than the dragon's roar.


	13. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

The morning sun shone brightly on Myllian as she thanked Lod profusely. Not only had the blacksmith added a fine edge to Dragon's Doom, but he had taken care to hone Riandr's Elven blade as well. As soon as the dragon's corpse had thawed the town's folk had set upon it, attempting to strip it of anything of value.

Lod had rescued not only Riandr's blades, but when Myllian had mentioned to him her boss' passion for blacksmithing he had made sure he stored both bone and hide with which to work the forge. Myllian was hoping Riandr would be well enough today to venture out and perhaps spend a little time at the forge. She knew the weight of the hammer might be too much for the woman's shoulder just yet, but she couldn't help but hope that the task might put some of the light back into her friend's eyes.

Riandr was healing, of that there was not doubt. However something had happened during their battle with the dragon, something that had driven Riandr away from them. Driven her somewhere deep within herself where none of them could reach her. Myllian hoped desperately that the thought of working with dragon bone and hide might cheer her friend up.

Working her way down the street to the inn, she had to avoid the workmen that were attempting to repair the torn road. When the dragon had plummeted to the earth he had destroyed a large section of stone and earth. The men waved to her as she passed, then refocused themselves quickly. Falkreath's sunny days were few and far between. They had to move fast if they didn't want to end up working in the rain and mud.

The tavern door opened with its now familiar groans. Valga and Narri were busy at the counter. Drenn sat at the corner table eating a breakfast of bread and eggs.

"Can I get ya somethin'?" Valga called out.

"Take some of what he has, Valga. Thank you." Myllian nodded. She took a seat across from Drenn, pouring herself some juice from the pitcher on the table. "Have you seen her this morning?"

Drenn nodded, pushing his eggs around his wooden plate. "And before you ask, there is no change."

Myllian sighed. What was going on with the boss? "Fil with her?"

Drenn nodded again.

"Then stop worrying. Fil will get it out of her."

"If anyone can, it will be her brother!" Valga added as she handed Myllian a plate heaping with eggs. Turning to the Dark Elf she placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "She'll be fine, Drenn. I know her. She's a fighter."

Drenn glanced up at her, his red eyes tinged with guilt and sadness. "Gods I hope so."

Myllian tried to smile reassuringly. "He will. Let's just give him the time he needs. Meanwhile eat your eggs. When she does recover and you're not in top form, she'll be angry."

Drenn sighed. He couldn't argue with that. He shoved the eggs in his mouth and chewed. He knew Valga was a fine cook and that the eggs were probably marvelous, but they tasted like dust on his tongue.

Myllian glanced up at the door to Riandr and Fil's room. She sent a silent prayer to Talos that whatever was bothering her friend, she might share it with her brother and he could help lighten what it was that weighed so heavily upon her.

Fil sat on the edge of his sister's bed, his heart breaking at the expression on her face. She sat up, leaning back against a pillow, wearing nothing but a shift Valga had leant her. In her lap lay her armor, folded with great care. With her finger, she gently traced the small tear the arrow had left. Around and around the opening her finger went, as if sensing every fiber. She didn't speak, she barely breathed. Fil waited, knowing his sister would have to say out loud whatever was in her heart. She had to say it out loud, had to get to the point where the knowledge of what that tear meant made it from her heart to her brain.

Fil wondered how long he had sat there, waiting. Hours? Days? He had lost track of time. There was a tray of eggs and juice that sat untouched on the dresser. He supposed that meant it was morning. She had slept all of the night after the battle, plus most of the next day and the next night as well, waking only to sip more healing potion and then passing out again. He knew her wound had healed, knew that his sister should be on her feet and if not at one hundred percent, she should at least be well enough to pretend she was. His sister was strong, unstoppable. The emptiness he saw in her eyes last night and this morning was tearing at him. But he could not start the conversation, she had to. She was slowly coming to a decision and he could not, would not, betray her by forcing upon her his own wants and needs. He would wait, though the waiting was killing him.

Her sigh startled him. It took everything he had to hold himself still.

She glanced up at him, the torture in her heart reflected in her eyes. "It should not have happened."

He waited. She did not need a response.

"That arrow… it should not have pierced the armor."

He allowed himself an almost imperceptible nod. Her armor was blessed by Sithis. Nothing should be able to pierce it.

"You know what this means, don't you?" She glanced around the room as if searching for the words on the walls and floor and ceiling. "He has forsaken me. I am… no longer worthy."

Fil could feel his anger roiling in his gut at her words. The thought that his sister, his amazing, brilliant, gifted sister could be considered unworthy, by man or god alike was preposterous! Unthinkable! He was sure he let a low growl form in his throat.

"I know… I know in my heart… I have been having… misgivings…"

Fil's breath caught in his throat. Misgivings? His sister?

"But… I didn't think… I have done all that was asked of me. All that the Nightmother required… but I know…" Riandr paused, taking a deep and steadying breath. "But I know that I have been questioning those orders. Questioning the righteousness of the Nightmother's demands. Questioning… the Dark Father."

'And there it was,' Fil thought as he stared at her. That was why she had gone so deep within herself. Why she had pulled herself so far from the world that even he had felt her absence like a lost limb. How could she have been having these doubts and he had not felt it, had not seen it?

Reaching out she touched his hand, taking it in hers. "I didn't want to burden you with this, brother. I know how you feel about the Brotherhood. I understand. But it has been my home, my salvation until… until now."

She glanced down at her armor again, her eyes filled with tears. He took a moment to watch her. It wasn't often, if ever, that he was able to see her like this. When they were children, yes. But since she had joined the Thieves Guild, then the Brotherhood she was always covered, head to toe in their dark armor. The thin but sturdy hoods perpetually covering her face, her expression. Hiding her from the world. But this morning she sat there, only a thin wisp of cloth covering her, her ebony black hair tucked behind an ear, her skin pale as snow, her blue eyes large and round, glistening with unshed tears. Even in their youth he had never seen her so vulnerable, so lost. He had the unmistakable desire to blow something up with a fireball to erase the pain from her face. Instead he placed his other hand over hers, trapping hers in his grasp.

"I guess I know now that there is nothing in our hearts that the gods don't know." She grinned a little as she said it, almost as if to say, 'jokes on me!'

Fil paused for a moment, hoping his next words would not drive her further away. It was the longest he had ever pondered anything he had to say, but he knew he had to get it right. What aggravated him most was her utter devotion, the way she had given herself completely to the Brotherhood, abandoning her own reason and intellect. His sister was both intelligent and compassionate. She was guided by her heart, to make rational decisions tempered by empathy. The Brotherhood, though giving her a family of sorts, had taken from her the right to make decisions for herself. He had often felt furious at them for asking it, and angry with his sister for allowing it. Gathering his confidence he decided now might be the time to say so. "Perhaps, sister… we should not allow the gods to possess our two greatest strengths… our heart and our mind. Perhaps we can be guided by the Divines or Daedric princes… but our actions, our passions, our choices… should be our own."

Holding her breath she took great care not to raise her gaze from the armor, certain her brother would see the anger in her eyes. How dare he? He who had never worshiped anything but study and treasure. How could he possibly understand how lost she had been, how tired of weighing right against wrong? It had always been her responsibility to find food, gold, shelter. The weight of their lives, of their very existence had been on her. Fil had had his head stuck eternally in a book! He had always looked to her to decide what they would do next, how they would eat, how they would survive. She had been the one to decide who they should steal from, who could do without, who they could trust, who was a threat and who she must eliminate. How could he suggest that when that burden had become unbearable, handing it over to a god was somehow wrong? 'Who was he to judge her so harshly,' a part of her cried?

He was her brother, her heart answered, the one person in all of Tamriel who would die before deliberately hurting her. Taking a deep breath, she weighed her love for him against her anger. It took less than a breath for her love for him to win the battle. Keeping her focus on her armor, she fought the fear in her heart. To consider Fil's words was to admit to herself, in the deepest recesses of her heart, that what her god asked of her might be too much. The consequences both good and ill, of admitting that momentarily terrified her.

However, her heart admonished, if she were honest she would have to admit, it had never occurred to her that she could keep a piece of herself for… herself. She had always imagined that to love a god, to devote oneself to them, was to give all of oneself to them. Nothing held back, nothing reserved. And yet, what if what Fil said was true? What if blind obedience was not the answer? Was she simply escaping? Using the Brotherhood to flee her own… fears?

She raised her gaze to her brother, seeing the familiar shape of his face, the way a stray curl would always hang across his forehead no matter how often he pushed it back. Saw the growing crinkles in the corner of his eyes, and the familiar passionate spark of life that always shone from them. She loved her brother and respected his brilliance as a mage, what she had never given him credit for was his staunchly independent spirit and indomitable courage. Fil would never hand himself over, to any god. For better or worse he acted and then took responsibility for those actions. There was no god for Fil to hide behind. No god to look to for guidance. Fil made his choices and lived with the consequences. Her brother did not do the bidding of a god when his heart told him it was wrong. Her little brother listened only to the dictates of his heart. It crossed her mind in that instant that of the two of them, Fil had actually proven the stronger. Her distracted, treasurer obsessed, scholarly little brother was in actuality, her rock. Riandr grinned and realized with a start that perhaps it was time she listened to him.

Fil watched her thoughts race across her face. He saw anger, fear and confusion. Then it was almost as if a thought so strange, so bizarre crossed her mind that she couldn't process it. His sister, tears in her eyes, grinned at him and pulled him to her, wrapping her arms around him and crushing the breath from him. For a split second Fil was so shocked he didn't respond and then his inert brain kicked in and he was squeezing her just as hard. Then the laughing began. He didn't know if she started it or he did, but they were quickly laughing so hard their bellies ached. At points he could have sworn it was almost hysterical, but neither one of them could stop.

It took the door bursting open and Myllian and Drenn tumbling into the room to get them to pause. Of course the sight of their two friends spilling into the room, looks of fear and concern on their faces caused them to burst into laughter again. They both had tears streaming down their faces as they gulped for air, their ability to laugh spent.

Myllian stood watching them, a look of annoyance on her face. "Want to let us in on the joke?"

Riandr and Fil glanced at each other and shook their heads. They wiped the tears from their eyes and sighed. Myllian once again marveled that two people could be so much alike.

"Gods I'm starved." Riandr said.

Fil motioned to the dresser. "You want the tray?"

Riandr shook her head. "No. No. I want to get out of this bed. Eat at a table. Maybe check and see if Zaria remembered to make that Enchanter's potion we talked about. Besides," she glanced at her brother, "I believe I have not yet thanked her for saving my life."

Fil blushed. "Oh… I have."

Riandr grinned. "Well I will thank her as well, all right? In my own way though."

Fil grinned. "Of course. I'm sure she'd love seeing you. Oh and she found the vial you had purchased in the brush outside Grave Concoctions. You must have dropped it when the dragon appeared. Bit flustered, were you?" he teased.

Riandr's eyes narrowed. She stared at her brother until he said softly, "Yes… well… possibly not."

Riandr grinned and then glanced around the room. "Well?"

They stared at her, uncertain.

"I've got to get dressed. _Get out_!"

They hustled from the room, grins splitting their faces and called out to Valga to put on some fresh eggs. Riandr glanced at her armor and realized she would have to take it to the blacksmith's to see what she could do about that tear. She found a dress in the cupboard and after spending more time than she liked tying up the bodice she grabbed her armor and headed downstairs looking forward to Valga's excellent food.

She plopped onto the bench next to Fil, grinning at Valga as she placed a heaping plate of eggs before her. "Nice to have you back, sweetie," Valga whispered, before heading back to the bar. Riandr found she couldn't eat fast enough. She only paused when she realized the others were staring at her.

"What?" she mumbled, her mouth full of food.

They immediately glanced in other directions, pretending that the sight of her shoving food down her throat wasn't fascinating.

Drenn cleared his throat, trying to find a way to start his apology.

Riandr glanced at him, catching his gaze. For a moment she stared at him without speaking and then said. "Thank you for removing the arrow so cleanly. Fil said that Zaria is thrilled at how well I have healed." When Drenn nodded, unable to find the words he wanted she added, "Nice shot by the way. If I had not thrown myself into the bloody path of the arrow, it would have landed exactly where I needed it. Well done."

Drenn nodded again, this time so grateful she was not furious with him he didn't even bother to find words.

They were silent for a moment and then Myllian said, "I have good news for you, boss lady." She waited until Riandr paused to drink some juice before speaking.

"What news?"

"I have your daggers. They're all sharpened and cleaned. Also, Lod the blacksmith saved you some bone and hide from the dragon. He says you're to come by as soon as you're well enough and use the forge. He has some ideas about working the…"

Riandr, her armor tucked securely under her arm, couldn't get out of her seat fast enough.

"Ri! Finish your breakfast!" Fil called out, annoyed.

Riandr didn't pause as she headed for the door. "Not on your life, brother. There is dragon bone and hide to work! Thank Valga for me!"

Fil turned to Myllian his expression full of disdain.

"What?" Myllian shrugged. "How was I to know she'd bound off like that?"

Fil rolled his eyes and started off after his sister.

Drenn gave Myllian an angry look.

"How was I to know?!" she grumbled.

Riandr worked her way across the street, picking a path between the workers. She felt strange in Valga's borrowed dress. The breeze that worked its way under her skirt and across her legs made her feel both uncomfortable and a little giddy. She had worn leather armor for so long, first with the Thieves Guild and then the Brotherhood that a dress was a distant memory from her childhood. She lifted the hem of the garment as she stepped up onto the wooden planks of the sidewalk. The breeze that blew against her legs also played with her hair, tossing it across her face. She tucked it behind her ears, enjoying the warmth of the sun. Yes it had been much too long since she had moved without the confinement of leather. At least that is what she kept telling herself, when her instincts kept reminding her how vulnerable she was in nothing but cloth and trim.

Fil joined her just as she reached the blacksmith's. "Really, Ri, don't you think you should give your wound at least another day? Swinging a hammer may not be the best thing for it."

Riandr laughed. "Swinging a hammer may not be the best thing for my wound. But I guarantee you it will be the best thing for my soul."

Fil opened his mouth to protest and stopped. How could he argue with that?

She heard the blacksmith's hammer before she rounded the corner and saw him. Hard at work, as every blacksmith was at this hour, she was once again filled with the joy the sights and smell of the forge gave her. The heat from the fire was barely tolerable to most, singeing the eyebrows and hair on the arms. The metal, heated and cooled, smelled sharp and acrid to the nose. Riandr loved it. She stood behind the man, waiting for him to finish his pull on the bellows.

"Hello," she offered as he removed the heated metal from the fire.

Lod turned, glancing at the dark haired woman before him. "Can I help you?"

Riandr paused, uncertain. "My friend, Myllian? Said you had some dragon bone and hide for me. I was hoping I might use the forge this morning, for a little while anyway, just get a feel for the material."

Lod stared at her for a moment, and then realization dawned. "Oh it's you! I didn't recognize you in… that." He took a moment to glance up and down her borrowed dress. "It looks… you look… very pretty."

Riandr wondered for a moment if the blacksmith was being sarcastic. When she realized he was still staring at her, his expression one of intense approval she felt strangely flattered and annoyed. "Well, thank you. But you have it? The hide?"

Lod nodded, his thoughts switching effortlessly to blacksmithing. "Got a few ideas about how to work 'da hide. Can't do much heatin' it. Damn stuff almost refuses to get treated. But it is very soft, very easy to work."

"What about the bone? How is the bone?" Riandr couldn't keep the excitement from her voice.

"Ah! The bone's a bit easier. Heat's up nice and works itself almost like malachite. A little brittle, but not too bad if you pay attention."

"Can I have a go? Give it a try?" She placed her armor on the table, pointing to the tear. "I must figure out a permanent fix to this. Plus I was wondering if, perhaps, the hide was soft enough to create a skin, an inner lining, to the leather?"

"Oh I'd think so, yea. Let me see."

Fil watched as Lod and his sister bent over her armor, their blacksmith's brains working overtime. It only took a moment or two for him to realize his sister was not only perfectly fine without his company, but that he was bored standing there listening to them discussing their craft. He decided to take a stroll, maybe work his way over to Zaria's, perhaps thank her again for saving his sister.

The sun was warm on his face as he worked his way down the street. The workmen waved and shouted good morning. Fil returned their greetings, still unaccustomed to the way the villagers treated them. A bit awed and genuinely grateful they seemed to embrace them as saviors. Which, Fil supposed, they were. It simply felt strange. He'd never saved a town before. It took some getting used to.

He had intended on heading straight for Zaria's, but as he approached the Jarl's longhouse, a guard pulled himself from his post next to the Jarl's door and beckoned to him. "Jarl Siddgeir wants to see you."

Fil paused, instantly disliking the guard's tone. "Does he?"

The man shrugged and then leaned toward Fil. "Yea. But if ya want I'll tell him I ain't seen you. Don't say I said so, but he shoulda sent ya an invitation, not drag ya off the street like ya was one of 'da rabble."

Fil grinned. He may have misjudged the man. "I was on my way to see a friend… but why not speak to the Jarl. Who knows, perhaps he wants to throw us a party, eh?"

The guard grunted. "Ya won't see him spending money on anyone but hisself! Can't even get us decent arrows!"

"Damn right on that account!" Fil agreed. "You men need better equipment if you're going to be taking on any more dragons."

The guard glanced at the skies as if the mere mention of dragons might call one down upon them. "I'll pray to Talos we never see one of 'dose monsters again!"

Fil glanced up as well and added, "Amen, brother."

The guard returned to his post, leaning against the doorway, a look of boredom hidden by his helm. As Fil passed him he murmured. "Good luck. 'Dere are some 'dings worse 'dan dragons ya know."

Fil grinned as his eyes tried to adjust to the darkness of the longhouse's entryway. The layout of the building was much like every longhouse he had ever been in. Which he had to admit, was one. The Morthal longhouse. The Jarl of Morthal was well known as both a seer and a member of a family with deep magical abilities. He had ventured there during his years at the college on a whim. Hoping the Jarl might have some insights into Rune Embedding that he would find helpful. She had been a big disappointment.

Extremely vague and very distracted. He had written the visit off as a waste of time.

The fireplace, long and rectangular was lit and open in front of him. The smoke from the fire cascaded over the stone walls of the pit and filled the air. He coughed at the sudden intrusion of smoke into his lungs. There were two sets of stairs, one to his left and one to his right that led up to loft bedrooms. He knew that behind them were doors leading to the Jarl's room and a state room kept for a representative of whatever faction the Jarl supported at the time. At the end of the room sat the Jarl, happily slouched in his throne, bored almost to the point of slumber. Fil braced himself for the absurd pomposity he had grown to expect from Jarl's and nobles and strode across the room. He couldn't stop himself from glancing in the open doors as he passed them. One never knew when one might spot objects worth a silent nighttime visit. He paused at the foot of the throne's stone dais. Siddgeir could not have looked more bored or slouch more insultingly. Fil tried to control his annoyance.

"You asked to see me, Jarl?" It took everything he had not to sneer at the man, however Fil could not deny that getting on the bad side of a Jarl was not good for one's lifespan. No matter how many dragons you may have killed on his doorstep.

"Yes," Siddgeir yawned. "What is it?"

Fil gritted his teeth. "You asked the guard to fetch me. You wanted something?"

Nenya took that moment to approach the dais. The Jarl's steward was an Altmer or High Elf and a damn attractive one at that. High Elves were a tall, willowy people and Nenya was no exception. Standing almost a foot taller than him, her golden eyes sparkled with some hidden amusement as she passed him and approached the Jarl. Fil resisted the temptation to mount the dais to be on a more even footing, instead taking a moment to appreciate her fine figure and golden hair. The golden locks set off her light honey skin to perfection. When she spoke he could only describe her voice as similar to the feeling of a warm summer sun on the skin.

"This is the Mage, my lord. One of the four heroes who saved the city. You requested their presence."

"Oh." Siddgeir glanced around. "Well where are the others?"

Nenya turned to Fil.

"Ah, well the others are occupied," Fil offered. "I was passing by the longhouse when your guard told me of your interest in speaking to me. The others were not with me at the time."

Siddgeir grunted and then tried to hold back a yawn. He failed miserably.

"My lord," Nenya prodded the man again. "You wanted to thank the Mage…"

"Fil, my lady." Fil thought it was high time she knew his name.

Nenya glanced at Fil, her smile gracious. "Fil. Yes of course. You wanted to thank Fil, my lord, for saving the city. As well as ask for his service."

"Ah yes…" the Jarl rolled his eyes as if all this talk of graciousness was irritating and beneath him. "Thank you for killing the dragon and all that. Now we have another one for you to deal with. At Ancient's Ascent. Go kill that one off too. And hurry up, my people are getting torn apart down there and you're the only ones who can help them."

Fil took a step back. "Wait just a moment! Not two days ago we killed a dragon for you and my friend almost died in the process. We are not hunting down another one! We have business here in Falkreath. When that's concluded we'll be heading home. Dragon slaying is not something we do."

The Jarl turned to Nenya and snarling said, "Told you."

"But Fil!" Nenya turned to him. "You're our last hope! No one will fight the dragon and its killing livestock, travelers. It's devastating the people of that region. We desperately need your help!"

Fil fought the urge to say yes to anything this beautiful creature asked. "Again my friend almost died not two days ago, fighting a dragon for your city. She is barely on her feet and you want the four of us to head out and fight another one?"

"But…"

"No! I appreciate that your people are in danger. But my friend has not fully recovered from her wounds. Plus we have a commitment we must honor in two weeks time. That is not enough time to travel to that peak, battle a dragon and return rested and ready to live up to our prior vow." He turned on the Jarl, his anger making him bold. "Why don't you arm your guards better and send them?"

The Jarl glared at Fil. "What do you know of the money necessary to properly outfit a garrison? What do you know of the expenses I have?"

Fil grunted. "I know that the Imperial army is better equipped than your guards. Why don't you ask your Imperial friends for some help? I would think they would want to see your borders and people safe as you are such a loyal servant of the Emperor."

The Jarl almost mustered the effort to stand in righteous anger, when Nenya placed a soothing hand on his shoulder. Very softly she said, "He has a point, my lord."

Siddgeir turned to her, confused. "He does?"

She nodded. "The Emperor has shown his gratefulness at your support during this… squabble of Ulfric's. Perhaps he may be willing to… support you further by better equipping your military forces. How much better you could secure your borders against a Stormcloak uprising if your troops had the latest weaponry?"

The Jarl glanced at Fil, his expression first contemplative and then quickly returning to boredom. "Very well. Tell Legate Skulnor to come and speak with me."

Nenya bowed. "At once, my lord." She stepped from the dais, taking Fil by the arm.

As he followed her, pondering how lucky he was his outburst hadn't ended with his head being handed to him on a silver platter, the Jarl called out, "Come see me again sometime, when your prior commitment is complete. I may have use for someone like you."

Nenya grinned at him as she walked him to the door. "You have made an impression."

Fil's grin was tinged with relief. Usually when he did that people tried to kill him. "I'm glad it was a good one."

"It was a good suggestion. It may save the lives of a great many people." Nenya smiled at him, her golden eyes sparkling.

"I'm glad. I really would like to help, with the dragon. It's just…"

Nenya shook her head. "We should not have asked. It was too much. But your solution to our problem is perfect. Not only will we be able to procure better armor and weapons for our guard to fight the dragon, but they will be better prepared to squash a Stormcloak uprising when it happens."

"When?" Fil asked.

Nenya eyes grew sad for a moment. "Yes. It will happen. Anyone with eyes in their head can see it coming. I know the Empire thinks Ulfric's defiance is barely worth noticing, but you and I know better. We live here. We know the hearts and minds of Nords. They will not give up. They will not falter while they still draw breath."

Fil had to nod in agreement. "It is civil war."

Nenya nodded, and then sighed. "For Falkreath and I, this is just one more war in a long line. However, the Empire should never have agreed to ban the worship of Talos. It is not right. The Empire does not have the right to dictate whom its people may worship. Having said that, I need to add I am a loyal citizen of the Empire. I believe it is the Empire that keeps the Dominion out of Skyrim."

"But your…"

"Altmer? Yes. I am. But being High Elf and being a member of the Dominion or a Thalmor are not one and the same. Centuries ago I lived in the Summerset Isles. I loved my country, my people. But much of what I loved has… changed. The Dominion has become… self-indulgent, arrogant, repulsive. To believe you are superior is Elven; to kill and enslave all of Tamriel because of that belief is… Ayleid."

"Well we all know how that ended for them! Do many of the Altmer believe as you do?"

Nenya thought for a moment. "Many? It is hard to say. Certainly the Dominion holds legions of loyal subjects, with many branches of power and control within its government. The Thalmor, as you must know, have a majority control of the Dominion now, with effective branches of spies and Justiciars. But there is also a great deal of unrest in the Isles. There are parties, families, who hold a great deal of power due to the Dominion, and they will fight to the death to secure this power. But there are also those of us, younger, less arrogant and more curious of the Altmer, who simply wish to live in peace."

"Will there be civil war in the Isles?"

She shook her head. "I do not know, however if you fear the Thalmor's meager numbers here in Skyrim, imagine what it is like to live amongst them in the Isles."

"Meager? If you think their numbers are small you should get out more! Travel to Solitude or even…"

She held up her hand to halt his protest. "I know. I know. It's worse up north. The Thalmor Justiciars encroach upon the northern territories like hungry wolves. But that is not the same as being overrun. The fear of the Empire is the only thing keeping the Thalmor from using High Rock as a launching point to simply cross over and annex Skyrim. They are not prepared for a full scale war yet. But it's coming. And if Skyrim is torn apart by civil war in the meantime, so much the better for the Dominion. A divided Skyrim will be that much easier to destroy."

"How do you… what side do you…" Fil stumbled over his words, trying not to offend but overwhelmed with curiosity. From all he had read, he already knew the Thalmor governed the Aldmeri Dominion, and all Thalmor were High Elves. Though the Dominion claimed Valenwood and Elsweyr as client states, you would never see a Khajiit Justiciar. The High Elves were nothing if not absolutely certain of their superiority. So how was it possible that this gorgeous creature was not rooting for the destruction of the Empire?

Nenya glanced down at him, seeing his fascination. "It is not that complicated, Fil. Yes I am originally from Summerset Isle but I moved here centuries ago. I fell in love with Falkreath, its misty rain, its dense forests, the beauty of Lake Ilinalta and yes," she laughed softly, "even Falkreath's obstinate Nords."

"But doesn't it… don't you find it difficult? Do you feel torn?"

Nenya shook her head. "Not at all. Not all High Elves agree with the Dominion, Fil. Not all of us long to be Thalmor," she sighed. "Most would prefer to live in peace. We have no need to rule the lands of Tamriel. No innate belief that our longevity or superior intelligence decrees us fit stewards. I know the Dominion condemns the Empire, however I also know Falkreath has fared well under their care. And unlike the bigotry of the Thalmor or the Nords, the Empire is more welcoming to all of Tamriel's creatures. I personally believe Nirn is more beautiful because of its diversity. I have no wish to control or destroy it. I choose to revel in it."

"And Talos?"

Nenya grinned. "The Empire should have let the Nords worship their man/god. So many lives will be lost to the idea that a government can control their citizen's hearts. Man and Mer will worship whom they chose, no matter what their rulers dictate. It was simply a Thalmor ruse to divide the Empire and thus ensure its destruction."

Fil stared at the woman. Everything she said made sense. He really hadn't bothered to decide how he felt about the civil war. It was so much a Nord war and he was not particularly fond of Nords. As a mage, he was treated very differently by them in general than say, Myllian, who swung an axe and spouted her love of Talos at every opportunity. Still, he had never felt right about the Empire banning Talos. There was something about that particular Thalmor demand that made it seem a venomous barb pointed directly at Skyrim and the Nords.

He also hated the Empire for disregarding the atrocities the Thalmor committed while they looked the other way. However Nenya was right about one thing. A divided Skyrim was a weak Skyrim. It was a weakness the Dominion would not hesitate to exploit.

"Good luck to you, Fil. After what you and your friends have done for our city you deserve to be made Thanes. Sadly all I can offer you is this coin and my sincere gratitude." Nenya held out a small sac, its jingle a familiar and beloved sound.

"Thank you, Nenya." Fil took the sac; certain he could find a better use for Siddgeir's gold than filling the Jarl's belly with expensive wine. "Good luck to you. You have your work cut out for you."

Nenya grinned. "I don't mind. I was Dengeir's steward before. I really do love my job and my city."

Fil nodded. "Good day to you then." He pushed open the longhouse door and stepped into the sunlight. He took a moment, letting his eye's adjust to the bright sun.

"How bad was it?" The guard still leaned against the doorframe, but his tone was curious.

Fil shrugged. "Not bad. Might be getting you some new gear though."

"Truly?" The guard stood up, his tone incredulous.

Fil nodded. "Might be Imperial stuff, but could come in handy."

The guard slapped him on the back so hard Fil found himself stumbling down the steps. "Well done, mage! Well done. Ya need any'ding ya ask 'da guard. Ya hear me! Ya're all right in our book!"

Fil grinned through the pain. "Thanks!" He turned toward Grave Concoctions; rubbing the spot the guard had slapped his thoughts now on this damnable war. The steward's argument for a united Skyrim was compelling. Ulfric's uprising was something he had tried, with great effort, to avoid. He had his own views about the Nords and whether or not they deserved a kingdom of their own. But even more compelling than his distaste for the mage hating Nords was his fear of a Thalmor invasion. If Skyrim and hence the Empire had any hope of keeping the Thalmor at bay, it would be united.

If Skyrim seceded from the Empire, not only would it be weakened due to the devastation of civil war, but it would cut itself off from Empiric gold and troops. True Skyrim was ore rich, but what possible hope could Ulfric have of securing his borders? Constantly set upon by the Empire to the south, the Thalmor throughout Skyrim? Heavy taxation on a population that had been split over his civil war would only foster internal strife. Add to that the fact that most families will have suffered grievous loss of life and property? The Empire would be weakened for loss of Skyrim ore and troops and the Thalmor would find Skyrim no more challenge than a mortally wounded cub. Skyrim would fall with barely a whimper, leaving the Thalmor on the Cyrodiil boarder, lusting for the capital. Ulfric seemed to be fighting a war that would end up costing all of Tamriel.

Fil paused outside of Grave Concoctions, rubbing his shoulder and wincing. Now both his head and shoulder hurt! He hoped one of Zaria's healing potions might help quiet the sting of the guard's slap. If nothing else, perhaps he could get Zaria to kiss it, make it feel better. His step was considerably lighter and his grin considerably more wicked as he entered the shop.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

The next few days passed quickly and quietly. Riandr spent her time working with Lod, discovering the delicate nuances to working with dragon bone and hide. Fil and Zaria spent many days huddled over her alchemic table, comparing notes, trying new combinations. A few times she joined their band for dinner. The conversations on those evenings inevitably turned to the potion master Nurelion and his obsession with the White Phial. Fil had attempted to extract a promise from his sister to pursue the legendary bottle, but she had refused to be drawn into a contract. They had enough on their plate with the boy and his machinations; she did not need to be committed to another one of her brother's harebrained schemes in the meantime.

Myllian was constantly surrounded by the town's folk, their adoration of her and her weapon palpable. When she wasn't practicing with Dragon's Doom, she could be found walking the street with Thadgeir, or working on the street repairs with the workmen. The men had tried to refuse her help at first, but she had convinced them that digging the hard soil and hefting the heavy boulders was a splendid workout. She had no intention of becoming soft while they waited for their client's return.

At first Drenn had kept himself apart from the village. The full blooded Nord population was not hesitant in offering their derogatory comments concerning his Dark Elf heritage. In an effort to keep both his mind and hands occupied he used his time to hunt. At first he had brought back game for the tavern, but word quickly spread about the quality and abundance of the meat and hide he provided. Before he knew it he had some of the village youth asking if they could hunt with him. The youths, young men and women unhindered by their parents prejudice, wanted only to hone their skills as hunters, to feed their families and their city. Drenn had been honored to teach them. One morning in particular they had been preparing to set off east of town, head into the forest, see what they could track, when a local farmer approached them. Mathies, owner of Corpselight Farm had asked them to keep an eye out for whatever had begun decimating his cattle. He admitted that with the death of his daughter, he and his wife were in mourning and he had not had the heart to search the forest for whatever beast was slaying his herd. He had shown them one of his animals, torn to shreds by claw and teeth. Drenn agreed to search for the animal, within a safe perimeter of the city. Taking the farmer aside he reminded the man that the young hunters with him had barely had the chance to hunt deer, never mind find and kill a monster of this ability.

Still, Drenn couldn't help but agree to at least track the beast. He also felt this might be a good opportunity to teach his students about judging their prey before they decided to hunt. A skill most hunters ignored, much to their sorrow. The Falkreath hunters who had perished in that cave were a good case in point. Spriggans always showed signs of their existence, from the lushness of the vegetation, to the constant humming of their insect familiars. If the hunters had known what to look for, they would have been ready to defend themselves. Drenn had an earnest desire to teach these young hunters a lesson in making preparing for the hunt as important as the hunt itself.

He had gathered them around the decimated animal, waiting for a moment as they stared captivated by the animal's brutal death. He took his time assessing the corpse as well. Gruesome as the attack was, it also felt… familiar somehow. The claw marks, the angle of the wounds. It was as if remembering a dream, the memory floated just there, out of reach. He shook his head and refocused on his students. His first question surprised them.

"What do you see?"

A few of them scoffed at the question. Drenn asked it again, this time with a hint of displeasure in his tone. "What do you see?"

Thorgeir, grandson of Thadgeir was a natural leader, if a bit of a jester. He glanced at the women in the group, his grin mocking when he replied, "A dead cow?"

The group snickered quietly.

Drenn nodded, giving the response consideration. "Yes. What else?"

They grew instantly quiet; apparently the teacher was not amused. This time a young Elven girl named Alinnia answered. "It was torn to death. It looks as if the beast started here," she pointed to the animal's bloated throat, "at the beast's neck and then opened up its belly."

Drenn smiled. Alinnia was a Wood Elf, a distant relation to the Jarl's steward. She was also the brightest of his pupils. Not all that surprising considering the Bosmer's natural affinity with the wild. "Good," he replied, waiting to see if anyone else would offer up their insights.

"It has bite marks here and here," Raihn offered tentatively. Valdr's girl, she was the eldest, but also one of the least confident.

"And what does that suggest?" Drenn asked taking care to catch the gaze of Remi and Romi, twin sons of the Jarl. At fourteen years of age they were already impatient, arrogant and foolish. Drenn found them useless and was not surprised that they had not offered a suggestion. Attending his makeshift class had probably not been their idea, he was fairly certain they found learning beneath them.

The others stared at the beast, hoping it would rise from the dead and answer the teacher's question itself. Alinnia was the first to offer a thought, "It looks as if it was bitten here, by the back of the neck, after it was dead."

Drenn had to hide his grin of approval. "What makes you say that?"

Alinnia paused, caught up in her discovery. "Well look! Look here! There is so much blood by these wounds…"

Thorgeir squatted next to the beast, following Alinnia's train of thought. "Yes. Look! All this blood spilled from the claw marks. But almost none by the neck bites. It's as if the cow were already dead by the time the beast decided to bite it." He turned to Alinnia. "Nice catch."

"But why?" Raihn asked, confused. "Why kill the animal with its claws and then bite its neck? The wounds are not even open. The beast didn't attempt to eat the cow; it just killed it, then bit it. What beast would do that?"

"Exactly! What beast would do that?" Drenn gave his pupils a proud grin. "The answer to that question may very well save your life."

Thorgeir stood his expression somber. "Because knowing what you hunt is as important as your bow and your blade."

Drenn nodded a rush of pride filling him. For a brief moment he was back in Morrowind, his grandfather staring at him with that strange look of pride and regret he always held. Pride in all the things Drenn was gifted at; regret that magic was not one of them. Drenn fought off his pain at the memory and dragged his foolish thoughts back to the present.

"Knowing what you hunt will provide you with the knowledge to choose the right weapon, the proper tracking method, even the right partners on your hunt. Knowing your prey is the first step in hunting and more importantly, the most important step in surviving your hunt."

Alinnia glanced at the cow's wounds, then back at Drenn. Her tone was anxious when she asked, "So what did kill the cow?"

Drenn glanced again at the body. The wounds, the blood spatter and the way the beast's neck lay broken suggested both size and strength in its attacker. "The wounds, their angle and depth eliminate a pack of hunters, such as wolves." He watched Thorgeir and Alinnia's eyes grow bright with understanding. "The position of the claw marks, how far apart they are on the body and the angle suggest…"

Simultaneously Alinnia and Thorgeir added, "One large beast!" They glanced at each other, grinning and then quickly glanced away, blushing.

"One large beast," Drenn agreed.

Raihn had dropped to a squat next to the dead cow, her initial revulsion at its destruction overcome by her curiosity. When she spoke she didn't hide her new born fascination at the clue's the beast had left behind. "It did not eat. So… we can assume it did not kill because it was hungry. Given a cow's nature, we can also assume the cow did nothing to provoke an attack. So it did not kill because it was goaded. Therefore, it killed because it wanted to. The beast must have been driven, not by hunger, but by something else… to make it utterly destroy the cow." She glanced up at Drenn. "I think the beast wanted to kill, needed to kill and that is the only reason it attacked the cow."

Drenn reached out his hand and helped Raihn to her feet. "Excellent, child! That knowledge, that understanding of _why_ is the essence of hunting! The ability to read your prey, to know its needs, its thoughts, what compels it… this will save your life one day!"

Raihn's Nordic skin glowed rosy pink at his praise.

"But…" Alinnia asked, "What animal is driven to kill for no reason?"

"Aside from Man and Mer?" Drenn raised an eyebrow. "Not many that I know of. One that comes to mind, considering where we are, what creatures I know of that roam these forests is… troll."

"Ysmir's beard I hate trolls!" Raihn grunted. The other two agreed.

"Then how do we hunt it?" Thorgeir asked, the first to recognize that troll or not, someone needed to hunt the beast down and slay it. The city's safety depended on it. "What choices should we make based on the knowledge we now have?"

They stared at him, waiting for his response. He took a moment, sizing up his students. They were, each of them, strong hunters desperate for training, but good with bow and dagger. However none of them had yet come face to face with the strength and fury of a troll. He did not want to be the one to take them to test their metal, only to have one or all of them fall to the animal's deadly attacks. Still, the lesson was not over yet. They would one day, probably soon, face monsters such as trolls. It was his duty to ensure he gave them as much knowledge as he could in the time he had.

"If we were to hunt the beast, we would now know to bring heavier bows, thicker arrows. The troll's hide is hard and difficult to penetrate. As everyone is aware trolls have the ability to heal themselves." He glanced at each of them, ensuring they were all aware of that trait. They nodded earnestly.

"But we also know they are susceptible to fire. A Bow of Flame would be an important addition to our arsenal."

They nodded enthusiastically. "When should we go? What time of day?" Alinnia asked. Drenn was once again impressed with her level of understanding. Time of day was vitally important on a hunt, depending upon what creature it was you hunted.

"Forest trolls are most active during the early morning hours. Their eyes you see are weak and they are easily blinded. Bright midday sun causes them to retreat to the dark areas of the forest. A nocturnal hunt is good, but trolls are often at their best at night. However if you can track a troll to its den, an early morning raid is always best. It will be tucked away, asleep. You might even find yourself slaying the beast from afar as it slumbers." Drenn grinned as he remembered a troll he had slain years ago, under just those conditions. "Please believe me when I say, that is the best possible circumstance under which to kill a troll."

"So, tomorrow morning then?" Thorgeir suggested.

"What? No!" Drenn exclaimed. "You are not ready to hunt down a troll. You do not have the experience or equipment…"

"You do," Alinnia offered. "You have both and we are in need of them. You will leave soon and we will be forced to hunt the beast down, without the benefit of your experience or skill."

Drenn's eye narrowed. He had the distinct impression he had been set up.

"Our chances at success and… well… survival, are greatly increased with your help," Raihn added with a flattering smile.

Good gods he couldn't fault their logic. He glanced towards the forest, his mind racing. They would try on their own, as soon as he left. They would try and most likely fail and one or more of them would die. He hardly felt he had a choice.

He glared at them, angry at himself but taking it out on them. "Fine. Today we will hunt… everything. Track fox, rabbit, bear. Chase elk, squirrel and bird. You will track and kill one of every animal I can think of. By the end of this day you will feel pain in muscles you did not know you had. You will have blisters in places you did not think was possible. Then tomorrow morning we will meet here. An hour before dawn and we will hunt a troll."

His students shouted their approval and his heart sank. They were too young, too inexperienced. How was he going to watch over them and hunt a troll? The sound of raucous laughter echoed over the farm rooftop and recognizing the voice, he grinned as an idea came to him. Why do this alone when there was one person he knew who always ached for a fight? His spirits lifted a bit as he contemplated Myllian joining their hunting party.

His students stood still, watching a smile break across his face. When he saw them grinning with anticipation he glared at them and rearranged his features into stoic disappointment. "Now! Get going! Deer! Find me one!" Barking at the group he began working his way down the stony road to the forest east of Falkreath. 'These pups will be begging for mercy before the day is through,' he promised himself. He ignored the twins as they began to whine about it being near time for their midmorning meal. Laughing to himself he decided one good thing may come of this, he would grind those two into the ground with exhaustion and pain. For all the servants, town's folk and travelers they treated like dirt beneath their feet, he would make them suffer. The thought lifted his spirits immeasurably.

Later, at Dead Man's Drink, over a plate of venison and leeks Drenn recounted his decision concerning the troll, and gave a detailed story to his friends of how he had dragged his students through a day of hunting every creature known to Man or Mer, with the possible exception of a dragon. They had even spent time following spore, hoping to find the troll's den. They had not found its actual resting place but they had discovered a few hopeful leads. It took a while to find the right way to ask Myllian for her help the following morning. When he finally sputtered his request Myllian jumped at the chance.

"By the gods, man! Of course I'll come. I've been sitting on my hind end for the better part of a week now. I need to kill something!"

Riandr couldn't help but laugh at her friend's enthusiasm. "Just Myllian, Drenn?"

The Dark Elf paused; he hadn't even considered asking the others.

"I'll come, if you need me," Fil offered. "Might find a nice hidden cairn while we're out there. You never know."

Drenn nodded. "I will take all the help I can get. Mind you, the troll is not what I am worried about, it's the students. They think they know everything. Can handle anything! This brashness will get them killed if I don't control it."

"Oh my. Who does that remind me of?" Riandr snorted.

Fil rolled his eyes. "I haven't needlessly risked my life in days, sister. Please give me credit for that."

Riandr grinned. "I will join you as well, Drenn. If that is acceptable?" Drenn nodded enthusiastically. "It will give me a chance to test out my new armor and stretch my legs a bit. I love the forge but after a while I find I need to move. Standing hunched over the anvil does not strengthen all of my skills nor keep limber all of the muscles I need."

"It's settled then. I would like to be at the farm an hour and a half before sunrise. Be there before the students."

"Will they all attend?" Myllian asked.

"Oh I don't think so," Drenn scoffed. "I am certain the Jarl's twins will somehow oversleep and miss all the fun."

Myllian agreed. "Bit of a waste of time, those two."

"I emphatically agree," Drenn sighed.

"They remind me of their father," Fil added, glancing around the room to ensure no one was in ear shot. "Their father is as arrogant and as lazy."

"It's the exceptional Jarl that isn't," Riandr commented. "By the way brother if we find a cairn during our morning troll hunt, I will consider my promise fulfilled."

"What? Not so! You promised we would find a tomb for me to plunder. I thought we had decided to explore the cairn to the southwest! We're heading east. It's completely different."

"One tomb filled with undead and traps and treasure is the same as another."

Fil gasped in mock incredulity. "Not true! Besides we'll have the children with us. I can't very well fully explore a tomb when I am concentrating on protecting the young."

Riandr's eyes narrowed, but she had to agree. "You have a point."

Fil grinned and then grumbled, "You were hoping I would forget, weren't you?"

"No, not at all," Riandr scoffed, knowing full well he was correct. "I have simply been a little preoccupied with the dragon bone. That is all."

"Liar," Fil laughed.

"Speaking of which," Riandr turned to Myllian, a smile covering her face. "I have a gift for you."

"For me?" Myllian asked astounded.

Riandr nodded. "Yes. Lod and I have been working on something. It is mostly complete, just a few finishing touches. But I am very pleased with how it turned out and I hope you like it."

Myllian stared at her friend, speechless. "You have a present, for me?"

Riandr laughed at the look on the warrior's face. "Yes! By the gods, My, you may not like it. So please don't be too excited. But I think you will, after all I cannot imagine that there are many of its kind in existence."

Myllian leapt from her seat, pulled Riandr out of hers and wrapped her arms around her friend so tightly Riandr thought she might have cracked a rib. "Can I see it? Where is it? Is it at the blacksmith's?"

Riandr wriggled out of her friend's crushing hug. "Yes, it is with Lod. We can go see it if you like. It's not completed yet. Just another day I think…" her last words were lost as Myllian grabbed her arm and dragged Riandr out the tavern door, babbling excitedly as they went.

Fil and Drenn glanced at each other and then broke into laughter. "Good gods that woman is excitable," Drenn chuckled.

Fil nodded. He wanted to add that it was one of the warrior's features he found most fetching, but found he didn't have the courage. He stared at the door a moment longer and then returned his attention to his mead. He glanced at Drenn's empty pint. "Another?"

Drenn shook his head. "Must stay sharp for tomorrow. Not entirely certain what we will come across."

"You found a few trails, right? We have a course to follow?"

Drenn nodded. "Yes, we found distinct signs of troll spore and hunting trails. We will head east; follow the path we encountered today. The beast's lair is more than likely a distance from the city. We did not find it today as I had the students stay within safe range of Falkreath."

"Ah. Good thinking. Well tomorrow I will be with you and, Mara forbid it, if one of the pups should be injured, I will be there to heal."

Drenn nodded again, his attention on the few morsels left on his plate. Fil waited a moment, recognizing when someone was deep in thought. It did not surprise him when Drenn finally lifted his eyes, an expression of concern written on his face.

"There is one thing…" Drenn started.

"What?"

"It is simply… I am not at all certain that what killed that cow was a troll," Drenn sighed.

"What do you mean? I thought that was what we were hunting?"

Drenn nodded. "Oh yes. It is. The claw marks, the bites, the ferocity. All the ear markings of a troll attack."

"And yet…" Fil offered.

"Yet… I have a feeling. I cannot explain it." Drenn pushed his plate away from him in annoyance.

Fil waited patiently for his friend to continue and absentmindedly wondered how he had become so good at it.

"Something is different. Something is off." Drenn snorted, embarrassed at his own inability to explain himself. He leaned toward Fil, his tone intense. "Something about that attack was not right. Not natural. I have seen hundreds of troll attacks in my lifetime, being considerably longer than yours. No offense."

Fil shrugged. "None taken."

"And this one was… different. More violent. More furious. It was almost as if…" Drenn paused again.

"As if what?" Fil felt his patience wearing thin.

"As if the beast made it… personal. As if it was striking out at the cow, blaming it for something. Taking out some fury or resentment on the poor animal."

"So you're saying," Fil leaned back in his chair, his head cocked to the side and holding back a grin, "the troll had a _grudge_… against… the _cow_?"

Drenn snarled. "No! Not a troll! Something else. Some other form of beast or… person…" Drenn's eye narrowed as a thought dawned on him.

"So there is a chance that someone, in the village has a hatred for… cows?" Fil failed to keep a straight face.

"The farmer, what was his name…" Drenn wracked his brain. "Mathies! Mathies said his daughter had died. Do you know what of?"

Fil thought a moment. "Oh yes. Solaf mentioned it. Little girl, she was torn to pieces by a madman. Horrible."

Drenn's red eyes grew wide in disbelief.

"They have him locked up I believe. At the barracks." Fil was startled when his friend jumped to his feet. "Where are you going?"

"Azura save us… I… I think I need to see this man." Drenn's grey skin seemed to drain to an even paler shade. "I need to see him tonight. Right now."

Fil stood, trying to calm his friend. "All right. I'm sure that will be fine. The guards worship me a little so I'm confident I can get us in."

Drenn nodded and without another word headed for the door. Fil followed, not certain what was bothering Drenn but absolutely certain it was bothering him a great deal. They walked in silence for most of the way, Drenn moving as swiftly as he could, mumbling to himself. Fil kept glancing at his friend, not wanting to interrupt his thought process, but anxious to know what was bothering him. As they approached the barrack's door Fil finally spoke.

"Can I at least know what's on your mind?"

Drenn glanced up and down the empty street, hesitating to speak the thoughts racing through his mind. "I have seen this before. A long time ago," with a strangled voice he added quietly, "Not in a hundred years did I think to see it again."

Fil growled softly. "See what?"

Drenn paused taking a breath to steady himself and then said, "The claw marks, the bite marks, the blood, the savagery. By the gods the savagery of the attack! It all points to one thing."

Through gritted teeth Fil asked, "To what?"

"Werewolf," Drenn spat the word as if it were poison on his tongue, his heart filled with fear and hatred.

Fil's heart stopped and he found himself incapable of movement. All he could mutter was a confused, "What?"

Drenn took another steadying breath. "It makes sense. There were no signs the beast ate any of the cow. It tore that animal to shreds. Not a kill for hunger or territory or mating. It was pure bestial rage. A driving need to kill, to destroy."

Fil stared at his friend, the blood draining from his face to his feet. He found himself able to squeak only one word, "Werewolf?"

"It was a few centuries ago…" Drenn continued his eyes vacant, focused instead on the distant past. "In Morrowind. I was young then, so young. Hunting with my father and grandfather we came upon a kill, much like Mathies' cow. There were twenty of us that gathered to hunt the beasts. Twenty of Morrowind's greatest hunters. We followed the pack, six of them, through Morrowind and into Skyrim. Fought them in the forests of the Rift. We defeated them, obliterated the pack. However, when the battle was finished, only five greatest hunters of Morrowind remained."

"By the gods…" Fil murmured. "Did you lose your father? Grandfather?"

Drenn stared blankly for a moment before responding. "Both."

Fil placed a hand on Drenn's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Drenn glanced at the door. "If the man they are holding, if he is a werewolf, he must be destroyed. There can be no delay. His head must be severed from his body. It's the only permanent way to kill a Lycanthrop."

Fil nodded. His studies, slim as there were in relationship to Lycanthropy, had at least included that tidbit. "We'll have to meet with the Jarl. Explain."

Drenn nodded.

"What do you want to do about the hunt tomorrow?"

Drenn thought for a moment. "We will need to follow through with that. Not only must these children deal with keeping food on their plates and fighting trolls in the forest, but now it seems they must have an understanding of werewolves as well."

"We'll need to fill Ri and Myllian in. I'm not certain how 'involved' my sister is going to want us to be."

Drenn frowned. "We have little choice! If this man is a werewolf he must be dealt with!"

Fil nodded and squeezed Drenn's shoulder reassuringly. "I know and believe me I'm certain my sister will understand the danger. However she may want to handle it a bit more… discretely, than say storming into the Jarl's longhouse and demanding the man's execution."

Drenn's sigh was both heartfelt and weary. He understood why Riandr might want to use the proper channels to carry out justice. But his Elven nature kept screaming at him that mortals in positions of power could not be trusted.

Fil glanced down the quiet center street of Falkreath. "Dragons. Werewolves. Such a quaint little town. Almost makes me miss the murderers and cutpurses of Riften."

Drenn's troubled laughter echoed down the street as they entered the barracks.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

The barracks door opened into a large room, lit by a few flickering torches. To their left was a set of stairs leading up to the second floor, most likely the guards' sleeping quarters. Two bookshelves lined the back wall, while heavily scarred practice dummies stood to their right. In the center of the back wall was an open archway with stairs leading to the lower levels, where the prison cells were. Two guards, their swords resting against their chairs, sat at a small table, eating their evening meal of meat and bread. One of the guards stood and grunted at them.

"What do you want, Dark Elf?" The guard's tone was as close to insulting as he could get without risking an arrow to his heart.

"Hello, guardians of Falkreath!" Fil threw open his arms, attempting to forestall any violence. Drenn's nerves were stretched to the breaking point as it was; Nord prejudice was a reagent they did not need. "How fair the valiant warriors of Falkreath this evening?"

The guard paused a moment and then offered, "I'd be a lot warmer and a lot happier with a belly full of mead."

Fil's grin was sympathetic. "Tell you want, when you get off duty check with Valga. I'll make sure you get a nice fresh pint, on me!"

Grunting in appreciation the guard sat and returned his attention to his meal.

"So… do you mind if we have a chat with your prisoner?" Fil asked nonchalantly.

Both guards shrugged. The second guard turned to him and asked, "Hey, you brew potions right? Can you brew me an ale?"

Fil paused a moment, once again amazed at the mental simplicity of the common guard. "Nooo, that's not what I do. However I can surely buy you one! Come see me at the tavern and the next round is on me." With that he grabbed Drenn by the elbow and ushered him to the back of the room and the open archway.

The jail proper was again one large open room. An immense single jail cell covered the back wall, empty but for a few bed rolls and a small table. To the right stood a guard, his focus on a book that lay on the table in front of him. To the left were crates, sacs and a small table lit by a single candle.

Drenn noticed none of these things. All his attention was focused on the single cell door to their left. Smaller and sealed with thick iron bars, the cell appeared empty. Drenn knew in his heart it was not. He knew the creature waited within, knew he needed only take four or five steps to stand directly before the beast. Images of his grandfather, torn to shreds, danced before his eyes and he found, for a moment, his legs would not respond.

Fil strolled to the table and addressed the guard. "How's the prisoner?"

The guard looked up from his book, "Quiet. He's not escapin' from that cell I can tell you."

"Oh I'm certain you're correct." Fil nodded.

The guard glanced back down at his book and added, "They say Ulfric Stormcloak murdered the High King… with his voice… shouted him apart!"

"Ah… yes… that's what I've heard as well…" Fil turned back to Drenn and rolled his eyes. Drenn missed the action as he could not take his eyes off the cell door.

Fil moved to his side and whispered, "Do you want to talk to the man?"

Drenn gritted his teeth and nodded. The word werewolf kept dancing about in his mind, taunting him with the sight of his family, broken and dying. Blocking the visceral images from his mind, he braced himself and moved forward, one slow step at a time. As they drew closer to the cell's bars, the room's single occupant moved toward them.

For all appearances the man appeared to be just that, a man. Ragged, dirty and unshaven, wearing nothing but torn britches, he appeared pitiful. In any other situation, any other place, Drenn might have pitied the man. But not here, not after what he had done. Though he might appear a man to the humans, Drenn could smell it on him. Even from the fifteen feet between them, he could smell the wolf. Smell the animal. Whether it was his past battles with one of its kind, or the touch of the Daedric god Hircine's hunt about the man, Drenn couldn't say. All he knew was the man stank of savagery and bestiality and the touch of the unholy.

Drenn paused a few feet from the door, the smell of the beast almost unbearable. It took all the strength he possessed to stop himself from reaching for his bow and shooting the animal straight through its heart.

"Come to gawk at the monster?" The man's voice was calm, almost soothing.

Drenn stood completely motionless, as if he were made of stone.

Fil glanced at his friend. He could only imagine the blinding anger Drenn must be feeling at this moment. Fear was what was gnawing at his own gut. It took all his mage training to stow the fear into the deep recesses of his mind and focus instead on his somewhat less intense fascination for the subject before him. Concentrate on the opportunity to speak to an imprisoned werewolf! He could write an essay for the college on his findings! That might attract the attention of Arch Mage Aren for once! Fil cleared his throat, trying to form his first coherent question.

"So… why are you imprisoned here?" His voice trembled at first, slowly gaining strength as he spoke.

"A little girl is dead because of me. Believe me it wasn't anyt'ing I ever intended to do. I just… lost control. Tried to tell them but none of them believed me. It's all on account of this blasted ring," the man spoke softly, his tone one of despair and remorse.

"What ring?" Fil had to admit, his curiosity was now piqued.

"'dis is the ring of the god, Hircine. I was told it could let me control my transformations. Perhaps it used to, but I'll never know. Hircine didn't care for my taking it. And 'trew a curse on it. I put it on and the changes just came to me. I could never guess when. It would be at the worst times, like… with the little girl."

Drenn still stood next to him, silent as the grave. Not certain what his friend wanted him to do he decided to keep the man-beast talking. "What kind of transformation?" Fil feigned ignorance.

"I don't suppose there's a point in keeping it a secret, if I'm going to die in here anyway." He paused a moment, his tone and demeanor one of complete subjugation. "I'm sure you've heard of men who shift to beasts under the influence of 'da moons. I am one of 'dem. It's my secret and my shame. That's why I wanted 'da ring. It was said to give men like me control. Now I may look like a man, but I feel the animal inside of me, strong as ever."

Fil stopped himself from taking a step back from the bars of the cell. "Why did this make you attack the girl?"

"I had just come in to Falkreath. They needed some help workin' 'da mill and I thought 'dat would be somethin' safe, somethin' I could do. When I saw 'da little girl I was just…I could feel it comin' on. I could taste it. I needed to hunt. But 'dis pitiful limited body wasn't meant for huntin'. Slow, no claws, weak mashin' teeth for chewin' cud. I held onto my rage as long as I could, but it boiled inside of me. She was so fragile, helpless prey. And then I… I feel terrible about what happened, about what I did. It would probably be best for everyone if I just… went away."

"What will you do now?" Fil asked, fascinated by this man-beast and then mentally chided himself. What kind of question was that? The man was going to die of course!

The man answered him as if he thought he might have options. "I've been looking for a way to appease Hircine. 'dere's a certain beast in these lands … large…majestic. It is said 'dat Hircine will commune with whomever slays it. I tracked it into 'dese woods but then I had my… accident with the child. I want to beg his forgiveness, give him back 'da ring. But while I'm stuck in here, 'da beast wanders free."

Drenn as if awakening from a nightmare, stepped closer to the bars. When he spoke his voice held centuries of bent up fury. "Appease Hircine? _Appease Hircine_?!" Drenn laughed, it was a horrible, heart wrenching sound. "Not the child's parents? You tore that little girl to pieces! You don't want to make amends to them? What about the other families you have decimated with your curse? How many, beast? How many people have you killed? How many lives have you destroyed? How many others would gladly line up here behind me to cut a chunk of flesh from your hide? And all you want to do is appease a god?"

The man bowed his head, his regret tangible.

"Listen well, foul creature. There will be no escape from here. No appeasing Hircine. No more killing. I promise you, you will die in this city beast, even if I have to tear the flesh from your body myself," he whispered the threat, but as the beast had wolf hearing he knew he heard it. Heard it and understood the rage behind it. "Then I will cut your head from your body and display it on a pike for all to see. I will ensure all of Tamriel knows of your fate and I will make damn sure others of your kind know it as well. Know of it and fear it." Drenn had moved as he spoke and stood no more than inches from the bars and the beast. His entire being wanted the beast to attack him, wanted the man to lunge, howl, anything that would justify his gutting him right now. However, as if sensing Drenn's intent, the man did not move.

Fil reached out and touched his friend's arm. "There is nothing else we can do here. We need to see the Jarl."

Drenn paused only a moment before stepping back. His red eyes bore into the beast's bowed head, his hatred a palpable thing. Without another word he turned and headed toward the stairs.

As they reached the door the man called out, "Sinding."

Fil turned, arching an eyebrow. "What?"

"My name. Sinding," he said in the same soothing tone.

Drenn kept his back to the beast as he growled, "I will ensure they spell it correctly on your deathplaque." Striding through the doorway and up the stairs he did not stop or speak until they were back at the tavern and then his tone was abrupt, distant.

"Get some sleep, Fil. I will need you at your best tomorrow." He spoke without glancing at Fil. Instead he headed straight for his room wishing for the first time that he did not have to share it with Myllian.

"Drenn…" Fil followed him. "Are you going to be all right?"

Drenn paused a moment, fighting the desire to smash something. Then he raised his hands to his face, pressing them against his eyes as if blocking out a sight too horrible to process. "I see them again. My father. My grandfather. Drowning in pools of their own blood. So much loss… and the others… R'mella, Dauivr, Tyllalli. Fifteen! Fifteen hunters died in pursuit of six of those beasts." At this Drenn removed his hands and stared at his friend. "Fil, these were not children. No babes with their first bow. These were seasoned hunters. And by seasoned I mean six, seven hundred years of hunting… each!"

Fil nodded. It was easy to forget sometimes how long the Elven races lived. How they judged time, their skills, their experiences, it was all done on a scale entirely different from humans.

"When I tell you that, the presence of this beast and what it may mean for Skyrim… frightens me, do you understand?" Drenn held his breath.

Fil stared at Drenn for a moment and then nodded. He had only known the Dark Elf for a handful of days, but by the gods they had taken down a dragon in that time! Drenn had not flinched, had not faltered. Fil thought the Elf might be one of the bravest men he knew. So when Drenn told him the existence of werewolves frightened him, Fil had to admit, his fear ratcheted up a notch to terror. "I do," was all he could reply.

Drenn sighed. He hadn't meant to terrify his friend; however he needed someone to understand what they might be facing. That beast had to be dealt with, as quickly as possible. Gods knew the Nord Jarl would not listen to a Dark Elf, no matter how much experience he may have on the matter. But Fil? Riandr and Myllian? The admired heroes of Falkreath? The Jarl would be forced to listen to them.

However there was nothing that could be done about it tonight. Sleep was what was necessary. They had to be at their best for tomorrow's hunt. "Get some sleep, friend."

Fil nodded and then headed toward his room his thoughts in a whirl. He dropped his robe to the floor and crawled under his blanket, hoping he had not woken his sister. Even though he was certain he would not sleep a wink, he was unconscious in seconds.

Drenn lay on top of his blanket, staring at the ceiling, his Elven eyesight picking up every detail in the darkened room. There was one persistent thought, one nagging fear that kept pushing itself to the foreground of the maelstrom in his mind. What if Sinding was not alone? What if there were other werewolves in Skyrim? Unfortunately for him and his roiling thoughts, the ceiling held no answers.

The next morning the four of them were at the farmhouse, waiting silently in the predawn darkness. They had discussed the imprisoned man and his curse at some length. Drenn's impassioned speech for the werewolf's death had moved them all, however they had decided to shelve further discussion until their hunt was over. Their focus needed to be on the young hunters.

Myllian stood by the farmhouse gate, her axe glittering in the faint starlight. Fil leaned against the fence and continually flicked a wrist, forming a small fireball in his hand, only to extinguish it and cast it again. Riandr leaned against a wagon, completely invisible in the darkness. Drenn watched his students as they made their way down the street toward them. As he had guessed only Thorgeir, Alinnia and Raihn had made it. He would have to assume that Remi and Romi were sound asleep in their beds, a troll hunt before dawn much too strenuous for them.

As the students approached he pulled himself from the post he had been leaning against and moved to join them in the road.

"Master," the students murmured. He took a moment to glance at their expressions, ensuring he saw no grogginess in their eyes or giddiness in their face. This hunt was not a game. They needed to understand how serious it was. They glanced at Myllian and Fil, uncertain.

"You brought others, master?" Alinnia asked, her tone suggesting she was annoyed.

Drenn caught her gaze and held it. "In all the years you have before you Alinnia, you will never come across a more brilliant mage, a more deadly warrior or more gifted shadowwalker. I suggest that if you have the opportunity to study with those who are your superior, you take that opportunity, whenever it presents itself."

Alinnia dropped her gaze to the road, embarrassed. "Of course, master."

"Shadowwalker?" Raihn glanced at Fil and Myllian. "But I don't…"

Riandr pulled herself from the shadows to stand next to Fil. "I must assume he means me."

As one the students gasped. "But she…"

"There wasn't…"

"I know there wasn't anyone there!" Raihn whispered.

Fil's grin was mocking as he murmured to his sister, "You love doing that."

Riandr chuckled. "Why yes, I do."

Drenn allowed himself a smile at the expression on his student's faces. "Surprised? Didn't see her did you? Well, she could have easily been a troll!"

Riandr dug her elbow into Fil's ribs when he burst out laughing.

"You need to be on your guard at all times," Drenn continued. "Not all beasts will howl or moan or roar as they descend upon you. There are many beasts in these forests that will make no more sound than the dance of a snowflake on the wind, before they sink their jaws into your throat."

Their silent, somber nods offered him a rush of pride. Before he left, he promised himself, these children would have skills it would normally have taken decades to acquire. He would not leave them defenseless against the evils that seemed to plague Falkreath. "Come now," he motioned to the road heading east and out of town. "Let us begin."

It took only a few minutes to reach the lumber mill and the edge of town. The mill was quiet as they past, the only sound the gentle creaking of the waterwheel as it turned, pushed along by the rivers current. They passed under the eastern balustrade, nodding a greeting to the guards, well lit by the torches they carried.

"Staying safe I hope!" was all they offered.

The twin moons hung low in the sky, their diminishing light barely illuminating the path. A gentle breeze blew through the trees adding its soft sound to the quiet cadence of insects and tree frogs. The smell of pine and mountain flower was strong on the wind. Drenn hoped his students could sift through the distracting smells to find the odor of animal underneath.

Fil nudged his sister. "Look!"

She glanced north and saw the stark outline of Nordic rock formations on the mountain side far above them. The shape of the traditional stone hawk statues rose higher than the mountain, beckoning to treasure seekers and fools alike.

"I believe that is Shriekwind Bastion, brother. Works its way through the mountains north of Falkreath. Draugr… yes. Treasure… no."

Fil looked crestfallen. "Stupid Nords," he whispered.

They continued on, each of them alert for a change in the sounds of the forest surrounding them. Drenn allowed the young hunters to take the lead, but he followed close behind. Myllian kept pace next to him, her gaze straying to the darken forest secretly wishing a saber cat would leap onto the road so she would have something to kill. Riandr and Fil covered their backs. Riandr found herself smiling at Drenn's constant attention to his students. She found his devotion to these children of Falkreath touching.

The road they were following came to an abrupt end, offering passage either north or south. Before them, up a small incline, sat the remains of a watchtower. The base of the tower appeared mostly intact, but much of its apex had lost its support stone. It lay in a mound of stone and mortar on the ground, making the tower appear quite short and fat. A small path led to the tower. Drenn paused a moment, listening. His face expressionless he turned toward his students. "Shall we investigate the watchtower?"

As one they nodded in agreement. They were quite willing to investigate anything if it meant they had a chance to use their bows. They moved silently up the path, Thorgeir and Alinnia in the lead, Drenn by their side. Raihn and Myllian followed, with Fil and Riandr covering their backs. The path rose a bit up the hillside before turning onto the small rocky ledge upon which the tower stood. Thorgeir was about to continue forward when Alinnia touched his arm. She paused a moment, uncertain what it was she was sensing.

Drenn had to hold back a shout of joy. Alinnia sensed it! She may not know what she was sensing, but she could feel it. Her Wood Elf blood was screaming to her and she had had the wisdom to pause a moment and listen.

Fil turned to his sister, an eyebrow raised. Riandr rolled her eyes and placing her fingers in his palm, used the silent language they had created as children, to indicate spriggan. They had used their language both to communicate without mother and father hearing and later, to speak during heists. Fil nodded and made ready his spell of flame. He knew he had to let the students handle the spriggan. But just in case he was needed, it didn't hurt to be ready.

Alinnia stood silent, listening. All her senses trained on the tower and what it was trying to tell her. There it was, digging at her. That sound! What was it? The night… the sound of tree frogs and insects and… wait! She turned to Thorgeir, excited by her discovery. Too many insects! Too loud! She was about to whisper her thoughts to him when his eyes grew wide with understanding. He had heard it too! They both turned to Raihn as she moved up to them, her bow ready. It had taken her a moment longer, but she heard it and she was the first to ready her weapon.

Thorgeir and Alinnia quickly equipped their bows. They glanced at each other, nodding their readiness and advanced on the tower. They moved silently forward, taking their time to place each step on solid ground. No crunch of twig or leaf would give them away. The spriggan would eventually sense them. The insects, the very forest would warn of their approach. However the closer they could get to the creature, the more powerful their attack would be.

Drenn kept close to his students, knowing he would not have much time to react if their attack went bad. They made it to the mouth of the tower before they sensed the increased speed of the insects buzzing. Drenn could feel the initial rush of fear course through his students and then, to his delight, he felt them cage their fear, focusing instead on the next few moments. The entrance to the tower was narrow enough that only two would be able to enter at a time. Thorgeir motioned to his team mates and they nodded. Drenn raised an eyebrow. Apparently the three had created silent signals without his knowledge. He was once again filled with pride.

As they reached the door's frame, the buzzing took on a distinctively frantic tone. Thorgeir pulled his bow to him, pinning it against his stomach and then with a quick glance at his teammates, dove through the doorway. In one fluid motion he hit the ground with his shoulder, rolling along his back, until coming to a halt on his feet in a crouch. In an instant he had his bow positioned, arrow cocked.

As he rolled into the tower Alinnia and Raihn quickly stepped through the doorway, their arrows notched. They searched and found the spriggan, her mystical figure glowing an unnatural green in the tower's darkness. Simultaneously, Alinnia and Raihn let loose their arrows. Thorgeir's followed a moment after. Each arrow found a point near the spriggan's center, cutting deep into the pulpy flesh and vine. The creature screamed in pain and blinked out of existence for a moment, only to return howling its rage. They could hear the frantic buzz of the insects as the spriggan screeched at them to attack. Without hesitation all three of the students sent forth another volley of arrows, each arrow hitting the spriggan again. Her squeal of pain was so loud it drowned out the buzzing of the familiars. Then the creature's body grew rigid. It seemed to glow brighter, more intense and then suddenly it toppled over backwards, landing in a frozen heap on the tower floor. With a loud crack the insects that surrounded it exploded into a thousand fiery sparks, shooting out of the spriggan, covering them.

For a moment the tower was silent and then they glanced at each other. Grins of triumph split their faces and they could not contain the thrill of victory. Thorgeir threw back his head and howled. Alinnia and Raihn laughed and then joined in.

Drenn allowed them a moment. They had earned it. It was a damn fine plan and it had worked flawlessly. When he felt they had rejoiced enough he laid a hand on Thorgeir's shoulder. "Well done. I am very proud of all of you."

Their grins could have lit the night sky.

"However we still have a troll to hunt."

His words sobered the group. The spriggan would be little challenge compared to a troll. They moved out of the tower, checking their equipment. Fil stared at them, his expression one of astonishment. "Drenn, really?"

His friend shook his head, understanding Fil's frustration. "We have not covered that part of the hunt, Fil. Would you like to instruct them?"

"Absolutely!" Fil turned on them. "Where do you think you're going?"

They glanced at each other, lost. "Uhm… to track the troll?" Raihn whispered.

Fil shook his head. "By the gods, follow me!" With that he moved back into the tower. He rolled up the sleeves of his mage robe, trying to understand what the young were thinking these days. When the three stood silently next to him he glared at them. "So you've finished here?"

Thorgeir shrugged. "The creature is dead. So yes."

Fil sighed. "So if this was say, a deer. You would simply shoot the poor thing and then leave it. Walk away?"

Alinnia started to speak and then made a small sound of understanding.

Fil nodded. "Exactly. Two shots each? Six arrows. How do you plan on replacing them? Will you be fletching out in the forest as you go?"

They glanced at the ground, embarrassed. Raihn growled, "My father would kill me if he thought I left a good arrow behind."

"And so he should!" Fil agreed. "But even worse than that is the treasure you left!"

Their heads shot up at that. "Treasure?"

Fil nodded. "Treasure. Listen to me please. When you hunt for food and hide, you keep what you need and you sell the rest, am I right?"

They nodded in unison.

Myllian stood in the doorway next to Riandr. "He's loving this, isn't he?"

Riandr sighed. "Oh much, too much for my liking."

Myllian laughed.

"Now treasure," Fil continued as if he couldn't hear Myllian. "Is often right under your noses and you can't see it. Do any of you know any alchemy?"

Raihn nodded. "A bit. Zaria has been teaching me a little."

Fil nodded. "Good girl. So what can you tell me about spriggan's as they relate to alchemy?"

Raihn thought for a moment, and then said excitedly, "Taproot! Their bodies contain taproot!"

"Exactly! And do you have any idea how valuable taproot is?"

They either shrugged or shook their head. Fil sighed. By the gods Nord villagers dumbfounded him. Even if they didn't condone the use of magicka themselves, how could they not want to know what treasures lay in the forest surrounding them? "Well then let me tell you, taproot will fetch a decent price from an alchemist or a peddler. It is well worth taking the sixty seconds or so to dig it out of the spriggan's body. Also…" Fil pointed to the spriggan, "this particular creature is a hoarder."

"A hoarder?" Alinnia asked.

"Yes. Loves to take valuable items off of its victims and stash them in her lair. Who knows why?"

"Because they are women and they like shiny things?" Thorgeir said sarcastically.

Fil's laughter burst from him. Thorgeir joined in until they noticed the looks on the girl's faces. "Actually no one knows…" Fil cleared his throat and tried to sound serious. "It was a trick question. However I bet if you search this tower, you will find the spriggan's chest and whatever treasures she has stored within."

They set about searching the tower, bitten by the thought of treasure. It took Alinnia only a few moments to find the chest. "Here it is!"

When Thorgeir made as if to lift the lid, Fil slapped his hand away. "Always, always, always check for traps, young man! Do you want to get hit with a thousand poisoned darts? Fried by a gust of flame? Skewered by a spear?" Fil ignored his sister's snickering.

"Uhm… no."

"Then take a moment to check the sides, the lid. Look for anything unusual in its make up." The three of them covered the chest, searching for the slightest oddity. When they were satisfied it was trap free, Thorgeir lifted the lid. Inside the chest they found a mound of golden septims and a tightly wound scroll. Alinnia opened the scroll and found the shapes written across its page undecipherable. She handed the scroll to Fil.

"Does this make sense to you, sir?"

Fil glanced at the parchment. "Very nice. A scroll of Bane of the Undead."

They glanced at each other and then Raihn said, "You should have it, sir. You're a mage and will find the scroll useful. We would have walked away from the tower, never knowing the treasure was here at all."

Fil grinned at them, touched. "Well, thank you. Now quickly, watch me remove the taproot, and then you can search for your arrows. The morning is moving swiftly and we still have a troll to hunt."

Riandr offered to carry the gold. Between the lot of them she was fairly certain she had the most experience carrying loose septims without making noise. She stored the coin in her armor's natural lining, and then stepped out of the tower, moving to Myllian's side. She let the sounds of the predawn forest fill her.

"They did well," Myllian commented.

Riandr nodded. "Yes they did. I think Drenn is pleased."

"And so he should be. He's worked hard with these young ones. Even though their families don't want him around."

Riandr shrugged. "I am certain Alinnia's family is quite confident in Drenn's abilities."

"Well, yes, but I meant… Thorgeir's family. His uncle is a good man. But his aunt... by Talos' beard that woman could freeze a fire atronach solid."

Riandr laughed. "Yes. She is a bit intimidating. However," she glanced at the tower's entrance, checking to ensure none of their young charges were listening, "it is good to know the next generation has not inherited their prejudices."

Myllian nodded. "Which way do you think?"

"For the troll? Probably continue heading east. Follow the road for a while. Drenn did mention they had found some spore. Follow that I imagine."

"Hmmm…" Myllian gazed into the darkness. "I do hope we find it. I would very much like to see how my new edge works out."

"Yes." Riandr grinned. "How is Dragon's Doom?"

Myllian laughed. "She is wonderful. A little bored perhaps but that's to be expected with city life."

It was Riandr's turn to laugh. "Well with your new armor you shall truly be the doom of any dragon who dares to attack us."

Myllian blushed in the darkness. "Ah now, boss, stop that. We're a team. Dragons had best beware us all!"

Riandr held her breath for a moment. A team. Almost a family. An image of T'chall filled her mind and for a moment she was lost in a morass of sorrow and regret. The question came to her, 'what if the boy tells you to murder Myllian, or Fil?' She froze for an instant, the concept chilling her to the bone. Then suddenly Fil was at her side, his expression showing his concern. She shook off her thoughts, giving her brother a reassuring grin. It wouldn't matter if he did. That would be the last order the boy would ever give. She took a deep breath, calming her racing heart and focused on their hunt.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

Exiting the tower, Drenn's tone was once again serious. "Let us continue on. Follow the road east." He headed back down the path, the students right on his heels.

"I hear you scored yourself a scroll, brother," Riandr spoke softly as they followed behind.

"It was a gift. A true and generous token of appreciation from my students."

"Your students?"

"Well, at the time, yes." Fil laughed. "Gods bless their giving hearts."

Riandr shook her head. "Ah, little brother."

They moved quietly in the darkness for a while before Drenn brought his students to a stop. "From this point we will head north, enter into the forest proper. If you remember we followed the spore to here yesterday. Today we continue on its trail until we find the troll or the troll's den."

They nodded in agreement and followed Drenn as he stepped off the road, into the forest. Riandr stood at the edge of the woods, her attention caught by a quick glimmer further down the road. Fil, sensing her curiosity, turned to her. "What is it?"

Riandr paused just long enough for it to happen again; a quick flash of light on steel. "Go ahead, brother. I will catch you up."

Fil shook his head. "Oh, no. I'm coming with you."

Riandr shook her head. "Stay with Drenn. He will need you if something goes awry. I will only be gone a moment. I promise." Before Fil could form another protest she had faded into the night.

Fil growled softly and then followed the rest of the group into the forest. Sometimes he found his sister's skills quite annoying. It took him only a moment to catch up to the others. He had to admit they were moving well in the forest, barely making a sound. The Bosmer, what was her name? Oh yes, Alinnia. She was by far the better student. But the other two, full blooded Nords, were doing quite well. Fil was beginning to see why teaching these children had become so personal for Drenn. It was easy to form an attachment to them.

Drenn followed the three hunters at a short distance. He could see much further ahead in the darkness than Thorgeir or Raihn, but not that much farther than Alinnia. They had made her their leader in the dark, accepting her Elven eyesight as a tool to be used, not a gift to be envied. She kept the group on course, spotting fresh spore samples and adjusting for the terrain. They continued up the hillside, the climb growing increasingly steeper. Moving in silence became a greater challenge as they climbed. Snow had fallen even as far down the mountain as they were. It crunched beneath their footsteps, echoing in the darkness. The air was considerably colder and made catching their breath more difficult. Drenn was glad of the additional challenge, and thrilled at how quickly his students adjusted for the changes in their environment.

With all of Alinnia's attention on following the spore, it was Raihn who noticed the bear. Heard it yawn, in the dark to the west. She took her time, listening for movement, taking into account the distance and the wind. Her arrow flew from her bow, piercing the air with a soft sigh. There was an almost indistinguishable thump as the arrow found its mark. Thorgeir's shot followed a moment after. The bear let out a single strangled grunt.

Drenn was impressed with their marksmanship. Bears were sturdy beasts and difficult to kill under any circumstances. They paused in their search for the troll as they reclaimed the hunter's arrows and marked the spot. After they had found and killed the troll they would come back here and skin the bear, taking meat and hide. It was a fine catch and would be both financially beneficial for the two Nords, as well as a great story. They had reached the top of the first hillside when Riandr quietly rejoined them.

"Nice of you to return, sister," Fil said, obviously annoyed.

"Of course, brother. I cannot let you have all the fun." Riandr's tone held a touch of elation.

"Speaking of fun…" Fil let his question float in the air between them.

Riandr sighed. "Just a couple of bandits. Holding the road and travelers hostage. Took them down and then sprung their traps so no one could be hurt. Oh and here, for you." She handed her brother an iron dagger.

"An iron dagger?" It almost sounded like a whine.

Riandr shrugged. "They were not very successful bandits."

"And you?" Fil felt compelled to understand the change in her mood.

Riandr grinned in the dark. "Let us simply say, I have not lost any of my skill brother. Silence is quite pleased."

"I'm glad, sis." Fil's smile was heartfelt. He recognized the possibility that for his sister reinventing herself might be a long, confusing and painful process. It gave him no small comfort to know that she wanted him along for the journey.

Drenn let the team rest only a moment before getting them to their feet. Alinnia quickly picked up the trail. The spore and tracks led over the top of the next foothill and then down again to the valley below. Alinnia was so intent on the trail that the thought of how far they were from Falkreath never entered her mind. But Raihn was aware, as was Thorgeir. In their lives they had never traveled so far from home. Drenn was impressed with how they once again pushed their concerns aside and focused on the hunt. As they neared a rocky ledge toward the base of the foothill, Alinnia raised her hand, halting them in their tracks. The soft howl of wolves reached them only moments after Alinnia. The wood below them was dense and difficult to pierce for the Nords with only the early morning light. But Alinnia could tell they stood on a rocky ledge and it was easy to picture a sheltered wolf den below. She made a few quick gestures to Raihn and Thorgeir, who nodded.

Alinnia turned to Drenn about to ask if they should dispatch the wolves, when suddenly she could hear the tone of their howls change. "Their cries…" she whispered, confused. "They sound different." Just as she spoke the words a great cry arose from the wolves. The band recognized that sound, that tone. That howling was a warning, a cry of rage and fear. The air was split with the ferocity of their growls. Instinctively each of them readied their weapons, not certain what had caused the beasts to change their bay. Then they heard it, the deep hungry snarl of a troll. For a moment the sound froze the students in their tracks.

Drenn made no move to snap them out of their fear. He knew in his heart this was a defining moment for each of them. This was the first time these young had ever faced a creature of this magnitude. The intensity of the fear it could provoke might destroy them. Fear was debilitating. Fear was the greatest enemy. Fear could freeze you like a statue, prevent you from defending yourself. Fear could cause your mind to go blank, cause you to forget all your training or worse it could turn your thoughts to the irrational. An irrational hunter was, without exception, a dead hunter. Every hunter had to face his own fear; often again and again as new, more terrifying foes were met. And every hunter had to overcome the fear on his own or he was lost.

Thorgeir was the first to shake off his terror. His grip on the bow was crushing, but he took a deep breath, reached for an arrow and shakily, notched it. Alinnia and Raihn recovered almost simultaneously. Whether they were distracted by Thorgeir's movements or perhaps the troll's increasingly disturbing snarls he could not say. What he did know was they held their bow's at the ready, their bolts lightly grasped, and their breathing steady. He felt a rush of pride for his students.

Drenn moved closer to the edge of the stone ledge. Glancing below his Elven sight allowed him to easily see the shapes of the wolves and the dark form of the troll. He glanced at the soft glow of the morning sun as it started to make its appearance in the east. In a few minutes it would be light enough that even his Nord students would be able to see below them.

He motioned to his students to join him. "Wait. Watch. The troll will defeat the wolves. Of that have no doubt. But the wolves are pack animals, look see…" he pointed to their grey forms. "Three, four of them. They will wound and weaken the troll before they fall."

"Should we shoot now? While the troll is distracted?" Thorgeir whispered.

Drenn shook his head. "You may very well hit the troll. But you may also alert the wolves to your presence. In which case both the wolves and the troll may consider you the larger threat and attack you together."

"Good point." Thorgeir gulped.

The wolves formed a circle around the troll, constantly moving, dodging the beast's long and powerful arms. Attacking the troll one at a time they would lunge and snap at the creature, trying to tear a hole in his hide, or bite a chunk from it. With each lunge the troll would lash out, his muscular arms swinging in a powerful arc. The wolves were small and fast, but still the troll would connect with a wolf, it razor sharp claws slashing through their pelts like a hot knife through butter. Their anguished howling filled the night air and the troll replied with guttural snarls. It took what seemed like a lifetime before the last wolf, littered with open wounds, slowed from loss of blood, made its final attack and was literally torn in two by the swipe of the troll's claws. For a moment, the forest surrounding them grew silent. Then the troll, bloodied but triumphant began jumping up and down, swinging its arms in a grotesque victory dance. It grunted and howled into the night, announcing to all the forest of its superiority.

Drenn held up his hand, signaling to them to draw their strings. The familiar sound of sinew and wood growing taut comforted them. The morning sun had risen just enough that the troll was clearly visible to them all. He gave them a moment to pick their shots, and then flung his finger downward. As one their arrows flew, racing toward the troll in a soft, sweet whisper. The troll never heard the arrows, his own snarls of victory drowning out any other sound. Their bolts hit true, each of them instinctively searching for and finding a different sweet spot. One bolt hit the troll over his left eye, scrambling his brain. One hit just below his right shoulder, piercing his lung. One landed dead center of his chest, tearing through his flesh and finishing in the muscle of his heart.

The beast stood still for a moment, as if his small brain was unable to process what had happened. Then his brain, his heart and his lungs… stopped. It fell forward; a confused snarl escaping its lips as it toppled. It was the last sound the beast would ever make.

This time Drenn did nothing to stop his students as they tilted their heads back and roared their victory to the world. In fact, truth be told, for the first time in his life the Dark Elf let loose his naturally haughty Elven demeanor, tipped his head back, and added his own triumphant cry to theirs.

Fil waited a moment, enjoying the site of the young hunters howling. Then he was quickly scaling down the side of the wolf's den, hoping to find treasure. 'After all,' he thought, 'I've been a teacher of a sort. I am due some recompense for that office I'm sure.'

As he reached the bottom he was annoyed to find Riandr was already there. The grin she gave him was mocking. "You're loosing your touch, little brother."

Fil glared at her. "How did you…"

Riandr laughed. "I do not allow myself to be distracted. Young hunters whooping in joy do not divert me from my ultimate goal."

"Which is what exactly, sister?"

"Keeping you alive, brother," she said and this time her smile was filled with warmth.

Fil sighed. "Fine. Help keep me alive in style then please. I'm sure there's some kind of gold here."

"Wolves are not traditionally hoarders, Fil."

Fil shrugged. "True. But they often kill those that are. Look around! Who knows what we'll find."

It took them only a moment to find a few weathered skeletons of elk and sadly, humans. White cap mushrooms grew in the dark shadows of the overhang. Fil picked those for later use.

Riandr found the overturned cart, half buried in the brush. The area surrounding the cart was covered in blood. Half eaten human remains lay close by. To Fil's great joy there was also an overturned chest not far from the cart. They pushed the chest upright and Riandr quickly checked it for traps. Finding none she picked the novice lock with ease. Inside Fil was surprised to find not only a mound of septims and a potion of vigorous healing, but also a bottle that looked identical to the one Riandr had purchased from Zaria.

He glanced at the human remains, wondering if perhaps the dead man or woman had been an alchemist or perhaps worse, in Riandr's eyes, a blacksmith.

The hunter's joined them, excited by the find of gold. Though Alinnia had connections to the Jarl, Thorgeir and Raihn were not well off and the gold for their families would be a great boon. Three of the four dead wolves were worth skinning and the students, well versed in peeling the hide from a kill, set about their work at once. Fil and Drenn stood close by, their attention on the student's methods. Drenn being a skilled huntsman wanted to correct any poor choices the students made. Fil, having little experience with skinning an animal, was simply fascinated.

Riandr moved away from the party to lean against a tree, her back to the group, her gaze constantly scanning the clearing to the north. Myllian stood near her, slightly disgruntled. She knew they had come on this hunt for the students, but it irked her to have found nothing to swing her axe at. Riandr patted her friend on the shoulder. "The boy will be here soon and I am certain our lives will once more be in danger. Dragon's Doom will get a fine work out. I promise you."

Myllian laughed. "That's not as reassuring as you might think, boss. What we're doing for the boy, well… it's a little unsettling."

Riandr nodded her gaze caught by a slight movement to the north. "I know," she replied, a little distracted. "But for now all we can do is…" she didn't finish her thought as without warning a large green glob of slime came soaring out of the forest in front of them. She reacted instinctively, shoving Myllian out of the way and rolling out of the blob's trajectory. Myllian regained her balance and instantly her axe was in her hands. With a great cry she raced through the woods, straight at whatever had attacked them. As she breached a corpse of trees she could hear the sound of water as it lapped against the shore and even louder the sound of many feet, scurrying in the brush. Myllian swallowed the taste of bile as it rose in her throat. The sound was familiar and despised. By the gods she hated spiders.

She broke through the tree line to see Lake Ilinalta before her. The morning sun glistened off the water, beautiful and inviting. The stone road to Falkreath lay before her and on the road sat two enormous frost spiders. The sound of their legs rustling along the stones sent shivers rushing up her back. She glared at the monsters, easily as tall as she and raced at them her warrior cry splitting the air around them; Dragon's Doom already beginning its deadly arch.

To their credit the spider's made an attempt to defend themselves. They spat their poisonous venom at her, tried to bite her with their sharp mandibles; however she easily rolled out of the way, rising to her feet her axe racing through the air, crushing leg and thorax. Riandr stepped out of the forest and stood, watching her friend fight the spiders, allowing her the joy of the kill. Fil joined her, fascinated by the sight of Myllian quickly dispatching her prey.

"Nice day," he said nonchalantly.

As a spider raised its enormous leg, Myllian rolled to the side and leapt to her feet, swinging her axe in a crushing blow.

"Hmmm… seems so," Riandr agreed.

"The lake is lovely this time of year," Fil offered.

Myllian's axe cleaved the head off of the largest spider and as it fell she turned and kicked it toward the mage. Fil just managed to jump out of the way and it hit a tree behind him, bouncing back onto the road.

"Now that was uncalled for!" Fil huffed.

"Thought you might want the venom, mage. Just trying to be helpful," Myllian chuckled.

Riandr burst out laughing, and then avoided her brother's wrath by working her way across the road to stand by the lake's edge. The mid morning sun had grown warm overhead and sparkled on the clear blue water. There was a small island to her left and she could just make out a thin column of smoke rising from its western shore. A tiny jut of rock a few feet in front of her gave off a soft glow. She knew South Brittleshin pass lay across the lake, even though it was well hidden from where she stood. But even more impressive were the distinctive Nordic carvings that rose high in the mountain range on the opposite shore. Bleak Falls Barrow was a popular tomb for raiders, and impressive in its own right. Aside from the stepped entrance that rivaled even the 'seven thousand' steps to the Greybeards, its massive arches rose fifty or more feet in the air, dominating the landscape even where she stood, leagues away. Its architecture was both enticing and foreboding. To the east, far atop the Throat of the World she could just make out the home of the Greybeards, their gaze perpetually fixed on the denizens below.

"It's a gorgeous day." Myllian knelt beside her, cleaning the spider slime off of her axe. "Stirs in me the desire to tramp through the forest, perhaps find something shiny for Fil." She couldn't stop herself from laughing as she spoke.

Riandr nodded. "I have to admit I am of the same mind. Much too nice a day to stand hunched over the forge. I feel the need to wander."

"Now that's what I like to hear!" Fil joined them, his mood jubilant. "Can we go now? How about travel this road, see what's up ahead?"

"Brother, we need to bring the students back to town. Besides if we go with out Drenn you will hurt his feelings," Riandr chided him.

Fil sighed. "True. Besides we still need to decide what to do about the… you know what."

"Why don't we just kill it? Do Skyrim and Tamriel a favor?" Myllian stood, wiping the water from her axe before replacing it in its holder. "I'll do it if no one else feels comfortable. I don't see the man as human, it's a beast now. A disgusting, unholy beast that killed that little girl. I'll lob off his head clean as can be."

Riandr stared across the water, comforted by the sound it made as it lapped against the shore. "I do not have trouble dispatching the beast. I simply want the Jarl to agree. Killing a prisoner may well make us enemies we can not afford."

Myllian grunted. "Don't see why, but you're the boss."

"I wouldn't mind a moment more to…" Fil paused as a high pitched roar split the air. The growl was both ferocious and terrifying. They turned as one toward the sound and their hearts sank as they realized it came from the direction of the wolves den and their friends. "Ah… dung!" Fil murmured and then raced after Riandr and Myllian who were already running full speed toward the sound. It took only a few moments for them to dash through the now sunlight wood. As they broke into the clearing they saw another troll, just to the west, growling and dancing its bizarre dance only a few yards from the students.

Drenn stood to their left, his bow readied, however the look he gave them clearly told his friends to stand still. Myllian twirled her axe, aching for the fight, but Drenn shook his head, nodding toward the students.

The three young hunters had been caught unaware, their attention focused on cleaning the wolf hides as best they could. Raihn reacted first. She had placed her bow to her right, well within hands reach. Her movements were slow but certain as she reached for her weapon, pulling an arrow from its quiver. As the beast jumped up and down, its cry of rage filling the air, she notched her arrow and took aim. Thorgeir and Alinnia, slower to react by only moments, were notching their arrows as Raihn's arrow took flight. Her bolt struck the center of the troll's chest, Thorgeir and Alinnia's just to the left and right.

The beast howled in pain, but did not fall. It began to move toward them, its arms swinging in the now familiar dance, its growls growing in strength and fury. The young hunters jumped to their feet, backing up as the beast headed straight for them. To their credit they each notched another arrow as they moved backwards, never taking their eyes off the troll.

"Hia! Hia!" Raihn called out.

"Hia!" Thorgeir and Alinnia answered.

They sent forth another volley, this time taking a moment to choose their targets. Again the arrows struck true. Thorgeir's hit the beast's right shoulder. Alinnia's struck his right eye and Raihn's flew clean and embedded itself in the troll's skull, directly between its eyes. The beast, driven by pain or fury, continued to advance. Its movements were slower, as if each step were instinctive rather than voluntary, but still it came. The hunters continued to move backwards, notching their arrows, readying the next volley.

Then Drenn, a proud grin lighting up his gray features, let go the bolt he had held ready. Drenn's enchanted bow caused the arrow to light up like a torch, burning with magical fire. The bolt soared straight toward the beast, settling deep into the animal's left eye, piercing his brain, burning it to ashes before the animal could heal itself. It dropped to the ground with a loud thud.

Fil broke the silence with his loud clapping. "Well done! Well done! You three kept your heads and hands steady. Very impressive."

"We could have finished it off, sir," Thorgeir said defensively.

"True." Drenn grinned at him. "But you had already proven yourselves and truthfully… I was tired of only watching."

Myllian laughed. "HA! See! I'm not the only one!"

"I would say you have yourselves a very nice haul for a single morning of hunting." Riandr added. "Three wolf pelts, troll fat and a bear hide? Never mind the taproot and treasure from both hunts. I would say you have done exceptional work."

They grinned and trying not to show too much conceit, they agreed with her.

"Shall we head on back to town, Drenn? Might be a nice day for us to go check out a tomb or two." Fil tried to keep his tone suggestive, rather than begging.

Drenn laughed at Fil's expression. It was a sad mixture of longing and desperation. Still, it might be fun to stop teaching for a day and explore a tomb. "Yes. I think that's enough excitement for our young hunters today. Let's give them time to tell their tales at Valga's. I'm certain the village will be very impressed with them."

They helped tie the skins to the hunter's backs. Each of them hunched a little under the weight. Raihn grunted a little as she walked, trying to adjust the skins so she would have easy access to her bow. "The pelt does get in the way," she murmured to Alinnia.

Alinnia nodded. "We should make Thorgeir carry it all."

The young man huffed. "No problem. I can take it for you."

"No." Drenn patted the boy on the shoulder. "Part of hunting is recognizing when you have reached your limit. Bringing back the meat and hide of a kill is the purpose of the hunt. But if you hunt to excess and overload yourself, you will find it impossible to defend yourself when you are next attacked."

"Next attacked?" Raihn glanced around them.

Drenn laughed at her worried expression. "Well you certainly don't think the forest animals will hesitate to attack you simply because you look defenseless, do you?"

Raihn grinned sheepishly. "No. I imagine not."

"Well then, remember to hunt only what you can safely carry back. You may find yourself eager to continue, but one more kill may end up costing you your life." They nodded in understanding, each of them aware of how much they had wanted to continue their hunt before they had had to carry the weight of their kills.

They followed the rock facing to the east, working their way along its length until they came across the cobbled roadway. Fil did his best to give Raihn and Myllian alchemy lessons as they went. Red mountain flowers, thistle and tundra cotton were discussed until they came upon a small pond. The pond held a glowing plant that let out a soft chime. Fil grew so excited at this find that he raced toward the plant, missing the pond's protectors completely. Luckily Myllian and Raihn were more observant and dispatched the mudcrabs quickly. Fil talked incessantly the rest of the way about the amazing properties of Nirnroot. How rare the plant was and the tomes he had read by a famed alchemist named Siderion. Myllian and Raihn feigned interest as best they could.

Their trek had taken them further east then they started and as a result they passed the bandit camp that Riandr had dealt with. The massive bridge that spanned the road twenty feet above them still held, but the boulder trap the bandits had created lay in pieces on the road. The students spent some time trying to understand what had happened, why the boulders littered the road and who had built the strange bridge. Fil had simply grinned at his sister. Myllian patted her on the back adding, "Nice work, boss."

When they returned to the village the young hunters thanked the band profusely and then ran off to their respective homes, eager to show their family their bounty. Their teachers decided to enjoy a light repast before heading out to find the mysterious cairn Lod had spoken of.

Valga had some grilled venison waiting for them, compliments of one of Drenn's hunts. They washed down the venison and some leeks with a few bottles of Black-Briar mead. All in all they had a rather pleasant glow about them before Drenn brought up the subject of the werewolf.

"It's not that I don't agree Drenn, it's just that I wonder if we really want to get involved in this right now." Fil tried to appeal to his friend. "We do have a client who should arrive shortly. Getting ourselves mixed up in this business may not appeal to him."

Drenn shook his head, angered at his friend's shortsightedness. "If this man escapes or is able to infect anyone else, you could have an epidemic on your hands. By Azura, do you really want to be responsible for that?"

"How can he escape? He's a werewolf, not a mage!"

"Can he infect someone?" Riandr asked, surprised.

Drenn nodded. "If a guard gets too close, he can grab and bite him. That is all that is needed to infect the man."

"By the gods that's horrible! We should warn the guards," Myllian cried.

"Their strongest motivation is to kill. But yes, they can also infect others. It is how they form packs. Age is immaterial. They travel by day as mortals, co-existing with others, often in groups of four or five. Men, women and children."

"Children?" Myllian gasped.

Drenn nodded. "Oh yes. They need a child or two, to lure others into believing in their charade." Drenn stared at the table top, his eyes focused on something in the distant past. "It's the children that break down your defenses. After all, how could someone so young, so innocent and naïve harbor so much evil? Then, when the moon is full, they transform… and kill."

Riandr moved to place a hand on Drenn's when her brother caught her gaze. He shook his head, preventing her from asking more of Drenn than he could handle. Instead she asked, "Then why is this man alone?"

"I am not certain but I think," Drenn offered softly, "that the man was trying to separate himself. That possibly his story is true. He wanted the ring of Hircine to control his changes. He did not want the curse to control him anymore. However the act backfired on him. Now he can not control his changes at all."

"We should just kill him," Myllian groaned. "Why are we even discussing this? The entire town is in danger if we don't!"

"I agree with Myllian!" Drenn pulled his gaze from the table and back to the present. "The beast needs to be dealt with. Now!"

Valga was moving past the table with a jug of mead and paused when she heard their conversation, laying a hand on Drenn's shoulder she asked, "Sorry. I don't mean to be rude, but are you talking about the prisoner? The one who killed the little girl?"

Drenn nodded, not altogether unhappy that Valga seemed to use any excuse to touch him.

"Oh well, you may be interested in knowing he's dead."

"What?" they asked simultaneously.

"Uh huh." Valga nodded. "A woman. Came to town this morning. Got wind of what Sinding had done. Don't know how she did it but she released the beast and then hunted him down. Chopped his head clean off. Gave it to the Jarl as proof." She gave Drenn's shoulder a slight caress and began to move away. As an after thought she added, "Someone said she was the Dragonborn. Don't know if that's true though." She headed back to the bar, leaving the group to sit in silence, digesting her information.

"The Dragonborn? Here?" Fil asked aloud what they were all thinking.

Drenn shrugged and then added with frustration, "Who knows if it is true. I am only glad she was able to do what we seemed hesitant to."

Riandr turned to Drenn. "Archer," her tone held a hint of anger. "It is important that you understand the… significance of the contract we have."

Drenn glanced at each of them and found their expressions disturbing. "What do you mean?"

Riandr continued. "Our employer would not… appreciate our being entangled in anything that might prevent us from accomplishing his goals."

Drenn paused, confused. If he didn't know better he would swear that he heard fear in Riandr's tone. But he knew the woman, saw her climb onto the back of a dragon! Fear for her, was simply not possible.

"In fact," Riandr continued her focus on the bottle of mead she held, "it might be a good idea if you are gone by the time he arrives."

"What?" Drenn bellowed. Now he was very confused.

Fil and Myllian nodded in agreement. "I agree. Otherwise he might be dragged into this as well."

"What are you talking about?" Drenn growled.

"It's just that, we're not quite sure what the boy is doing, what we're doing. If you were with us he may have you join us and that might get you killed." Myllian placed her hand on Drenn's arm, hoping she wasn't hurting his feelings.

Drenn turned to Fil, desperately wanting someone to say something that would make sense to him. "What in the name of the gods is she talking about?"

Fil paused, hoping he could make sense of the situation to his friend. He spoke in soft tones, glancing around him constantly, checking to see if anyone were eavesdropping. He tried to explain as clearly as he could the boy's search for the shards and their growing unease with both the boy and his reasons for wanting the pieces. He mapped out their theories, concerns and their fears. When he finished Drenn sat back, glancing at his friends in astonishment.

"How in the hells did you get caught up in this?" Drenn asked of Riandr.

Riandr sighed. "At the time, I was not given a choice."

Drenn shook his head, uncertain how anyone could make this woman feel as if she had no choice. "But now?" he asked.

"Now I am… re-evaluating my options." She glanced at Drenn, attempting a grin. "I am hoping to limit the casualties when I do so."

"Well I'm not leaving," Myllian stated, broking no room for argument.

"Neither am I," Fil agreed.

Drenn glanced at the three of them, shaking his head in resignation. "Well I will not be going anywhere."

"Drenn!" Riandr said vehemently. "You are not caught up in this. We can go find Fil's tomb, gather up some gold and then you can continue on your way. It is not your concern."

"Excuse me, _boss lady_," Drenn angrily used Myllian's form of endearment. "But from Fil's description of things, I would say yes, it is my concern. As it should be the concern of all of Skyrim. Possibly all of Tamriel! Besides, you three are my friends. I do not abandon my friends at the first sign of trouble."

Myllian grinned. "Got a little more than you bargained for when you shot that troll for us."

Drenn laughed. "Yes. Quite a bit more." When Riandr made as if to speak he cut her off. "But I am still in it for the long haul. You cannot get rid of me, Riandr. I am with you until the end. No matter what you decide to do with this… contract."

Fil slapped Drenn on the shoulder; his bright blue eye's sparkling. "Welcome to the club, friend! We're a clueless lot, but we do have fun!"

Riandr sat back, shaking her head. Adding Drenn's life to the mix didn't help the constant fear that ate into her gut. But she couldn't help the smile that lit up her face. She was fond of the Dark Elf and was glad he would be continuing on with them. It felt right, somehow.

"Can we go raid a tomb now?" Fil asked, his anticipation palpable.

"We'd better go. If we don't Fil might soil his robe!" Myllian snorted.

Riandr and Drenn burst out laughing.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Valga packed them a few supplies, enough to keep them fed if they decided to spend the night in the forest. It was almost mid afternoon when they set out. The sun, warm and inviting during their morning hunt was now hidden behind the dark grey clouds that seemed to hover over Falkreath. Riandr was happy to leave the dreary weather behind and hoped to find sunshine on their search for the cairn and its treasure.

Lod had given them directions to the Cairn. The blacksmith had never seen the tomb himself as he hadn't left the village in many years. The traveling he had done as Dengeir's protector had not included tomb robbing. He had offered them new arrows for Drenn, the rest of them being quite happy with the weapons they had.

Myllian had insisted on wearing her new dragon bone armor. The breast plate, made of tempered dragon bone and hide, was still a little loose on her. Riandr promised to fit it better upon their return. Myllian however couldn't have been more pleased with her gift and beamed excitedly.

Once through the western gate they turned east, following the road as it meandered up the mountainside. The sun broke through the clouds shortly after they lost sight of Falkreath. It was warm on their backs as they made their way along the cobbled road. The sound of birds and the ever present creak of the trees filled the air. It was so pleasant that they walked in silence for a while, enjoying the quiet away from the noisy city. The road they followed turned abruptly northeast, continuing up the mountainside or southwest running parallel with the road out of town. They headed southwest; following the stony path as it wound its way further up the mountain.

The mountains of Falkreath Hold rose sharply to their left. Rocky and majestic they seemed to tower over the band, daring them to investigate their hidden crevices. The trees, immense by any standard, grew thick and hearty. The rocky incline offered so many darkened fissures and possible caves that Riandr had to restrain Fil from wandering off, reminding him that the cairn was a known tomb hopefully filled with treasure and not an unknown gamble.

However she could not prevent him from stepping off the road when he caught sight of a dead saber cat. The cat lay on its side, intact other than a deep sword wound on its neck.

"Fil!" Riandr growled knowing full well he would ignore her. To her surprise Myllian was right by his side.

"What's this?" Myllian poked at the big cat with her boot.

"Seems to have been slain with a single blow," Fil said, impressed. He dropped to a squat next to the saber cat and inspected the bloody wound. "Impressive."

Myllian whistled. "I'll say. Why not skin it after? Seems a waste."

Riandr and Drenn joined them, their attention on the forest around them. Fil could sense Riandr's stillness even before Drenn placed a hand on the mage's shoulder. "I don't think his intention was to collect pelts," Drenn said softly.

Without moving Fil tore his gaze from the cat and glanced up. Not ten yards away stood an impressive Orc. Easily a head or two taller than the average human, the Orc stood regally, unmoving. He was dressed in dark fur armor that contrasted sharply with his green skin. His black hair was pulled back in the traditional warrior's tail, his long tusks rising from his jaw almost to his cheeks. The pommel of his sword glittered in the dappled light of the forest. At his feet lay the corpse of another saber cat. The Orc made no move to advance nearer, simply stared at them; his dark eye's fixated on Myllian.

"He seems to like you, My," Fil whispered.

"Idiot. He's staring at my axe." Myllian glanced at Riandr, who shrugged in response. The warrior moved toward the Orc, her axe sheathed but her hands ready to release the blade in seconds. The Orc continued to stand unmoving, his gaze held by the Redguard's blade.

Myllian paused a few yards from the Orc, when she spoke her tone was calm but strong. "Hello, friend. It has been a fine hunt for you today." She gestured to the saber cat at his feet.

The Orc, his voice deep and gravely, surprised them with his response. "I am waiting for a good death. If you are not here to grant me a good death, then you can leave."

"A good death?" Myllian asked, her hands suddenly aching to hold Dragon's Doom. A good death for Orcs, as for Nords, meant death in battle.

"Yes. Were I too simply lie down and die it would not please Malacath."

"Why do you wish to die?" Fil had moved to stand next to Myllian, the ideology behind the Orc's request lost on him.

The Orc's tone was again calm; however Myllian was not ignorant of the passion that drove him, that lay hidden behind his stoic facade. "My time has come. I am old, too old to become chief. It would be wrong for me to take wives at this age. So I will die. Malacath has given me a vision of a glorious death. I am to wait here, until it finds me. As you can see, it has not yet arrived."

Fil couldn't believe what he was hearing. To choose death? Was the Orc insane? "You don't look that old to me. Certainly you're still a strong, capable warrior!"

"Indeed. One should find his death while he can still call himself a proper man. We Orc men are not like these Nords and Imperials who carry on until they are gray and feeble and their hair falls out. To cling to something past its usefulness is unseemly. How much more so when that thing is you."

Myllian had stood quietly as Fil struggled with the Orc. She forgot at times that Fil was an Imperial. Raised in Riften true, but Imperial none the less. Honor, strength, combat, these were things that happened to Fil, he did not seek them out. He was a good man, with a good heart, but he was not a Nord. He did not understand how compelled the Nords and the Orcs were to die with a sword in their hand, their bodies pushed to their limits, their hearts bursting from the joy of battle. Fil would never understand. But she did, and her heart cried out to her to offer this honorable warrior the death he sought. She hesitated for only a moment, glancing at Riandr. Riandr sighed and then gave her friend the slightest of nods.

Myllian turned to the Orc, her heart and body beginning to pulse with the thrill of battle. "Perhaps I can give you the death you seek?"

"What?" Fil glared at Myllian. "Are you insane? You can't…" Fil began, only to have his sister grab his shoulder and pull him away from the warrior.

"Quiet, brother," Riandr whispered in his ear. Fil glared at her and then again at Myllian before folding his arms across his chest, an exasperated expression on his face.

"Perhaps. Are you sure about this?" The Orc's stoic expression changed. His eyes, dark and unfathomable, now held a touch of hope.

Myllian released Dragon's Doom from its sheath. She held it lightly in her hands, twirling it ever so slightly so it caught and reflected the sun. Even in the dappled sunlight of the forest the blade flashed, as if promising the Orc a glorious end. "Yes. I am sure. I will give you a good death."

For the first time the Orc grinned. "Hmmm, we shall see." Without another word the Orc drew his sword and lunged at Myllian. The warrior easily dodged the Orc's attack, letting him rush past her as she turned and faced him. The Orc had the larger build and longer arms, but Myllian had youth and experience on her side. The grins they exchanged were both feral and excited.

"Let us pull back, brother. We do not wish to be in the way." Riandr grabbed Fil by the arm, forcing him to step away from the battle.

"I don't understand! I'll never understand!" Fil fought his sister, not wanting to leave Myllian's side. "It's such a waste! I'm sure he still has some glorious battles left in him. Then he could settle down at an inn, drink the finest mead, surround himself with adoring young maids and fill their heads with stories of his magnificent battles. Why give that up?"

Riandr shrugged. "Death is often a release. Many races do not fear it, they welcome it. As long as they meet death on their terms."

Drenn came to stand next to them, his eyes on the combatants. "Growing old for my people is considered a great honor. However we do not fear death. We revere the dead; we have our ancestor's spirits live among us, guiding us. But our own mortality is often forgotten. When you watch the generations of other races fall one by one you begin to see death as almost an impossibility for yourself."

Riandr and Fil glanced at him. Riandr's expression was indecipherable, Fil's was annoyed. "That's lovely, Drenn. Thanks for sharing."

Drenn shrugged. "As Riandr said, it is actually quite simple. Every living thing, if it lives a day or a year or a thousand years, hopes to die on its own terms." They turned back to the battle, the clash of blade and axe coming quicker now.

"Think the Orc has a shot?" Fil asked.

Riandr and Drenn chuckled. "Not on your life, brother," was Riandr's softly spoken response.

Myllian rolled away from a vicious swipe of the Orc's blade. His lunges were clean, powerful. She had to give him credit, he was a fine warrior. In his youth he must have been an extraordinary adversary. However now, as Myllian lunged, catching the Orc on his right arm, tearing into his green skin and spilling his blood, she could see his age affecting him.

At first she had drawn him out, lunged in wide arcs, intentionally missing him in order to see how he responded, which side he favored, which side was weakest. His sword, lightly gripped in his right hand, was his only weapon. His left arm he used more for balance. She wondered abstractly why he used no shield. However the lack of shield left his left side open after he swung at her and then began his pull back, preparing for another lunge. It quickly became obvious that the Orc liked to pull his blade high, over his head, and use his powerful shoulders and upper arms to swing with devastating force. The problem with that attack was it shouted its intent so loudly that she could counter it long before it had a chance to reach her. Rolling under his raised arm she had leapt to her feet and still in a crouch, swung the axe across his lower back, Dragon's Doom tearing through his fur armor with ease, slicing into his back.

With a grunt the Orc turned quickly, raising his sword for another strike. She chose to block this one, allowing his powerful thrust to crash against her axe, the reverberation sending ripples up the muscles in his arm. Quickly rolling out of the way she jumped to her feet, waiting for the Orc to turn to her. When he did she could see the thrill of the battle in his eyes, the blood lust curling the corners of his lips. She spun on him then, letting Dragon's Doom slice ever so slightly into the muscle of his left arm. The old Orc grunted and stumbled back, falling to the ground in a defensive crouch, his left arm hanging limply by his side.

Myllian's heart pounded, the battle was almost finished. The Orc was tiring quickly, his blood loss adding to his fatigue. But she would not let this warrior die on his knees. That was not the glorious death he craved. Raising her arms slowly, she let Dragon's Doom glitter in the soft sunlight. She stood for a moment, bathed in the soft glow of the sun, staring at the Orc allowing him a moment without making it apparent, to catch his breath. When she could see he had readied himself she let out a growl, a warrior's challenge. Low, deep and compelling she knew the man's warrior heart would hear the call and be unable to resist.

The Orc turned and glared at her then, his dark eyes at first filled with pain. Then he grinned, the sight of Dragon's Doom its edge gleaming bright red with his blood awakening in him the joy of a fierce battle and his glorious end. He pulled himself to his feet, and raising his sword over his head, lunged at her, bellowing a growl that answered hers.

She waited until he was only a step away, until she could see the sweat on his brow, smell the warmth of his blood, thrill at the warrior's fire in his eyes. Then she swung her axe down, pulling the blade with all the strength she possessed, arching it just so. It sliced through the Orc's neck with ease, separating his head from his body in one clean stroke. His body immediately stopped its forward movement, dropping to its knees and falling forward, just missing her boots. His head flew through the air to hit the ground and roll directly at the dead saber cat. It ended its journey lying against the cat, almost cradled in the dead beast's paws.

She stood still for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest and allowed the thrill of victory to fill her. He had fought well; he had not faltered or hesitated. She felt Malacath would be pleased.

"Are you all right?" Fil stood by her side, his concern evident.

She slowly lowered her blade, only then realizing she was still holding it at the end of its terrible arc. "Yes." She grinned at him, her heart filled with joy for the Orc. "It was a good death."

Fil nodded, mostly because of his affection for Myllian. He did not now, nor would he ever, understand why any creature would want to end his life before his time. There was always another pint to drink, another maiden to woo. Life offered too much joy to end it before it was rudely taken from you. However even he could see that the Orc longed for this death and Myllian, understanding the desire in his heart, had given it to him. That Fil understood and respected.

"Let me clean my blade and we can continue on." Myllian turned to the shrub grass growing in a patch nearby. Fil glanced for a moment at the Orc's headless body and then shaking his head, walked back to Riandr.

"No?" his sister asked, surprised.

Fil sighed. "Even I can respect a creature's wish to die with honor. I hardly think looting his body would be respectful."

Riandr smiled and patting her brother on his head said mockingly, "They grow up so quickly." Drenn started to laugh but caught a glare from Fil and quickly coughed and glanced away instead.

"Ready?" Myllian asked as she joined them.

They moved back onto the road and continued heading southwest, each of them silent as they traveled; the same question racing through each of their minds. How will I face my end? Fil pictured himself many years hence, lying in bed, two lovely ladies cradling him in their arms, slowly drifting away, a smile on his face. Myllian saw herself on a battlefield, the ground soaked with the blood of a thousand men she had sent on to Sovngarde. Her challenging gaze would be fixed on both the blade and the warrior who would end her life, her warrior's cry piercing the air. Drenn's thoughts drifted back to images of his grandfather. His aged and wrinkled face alight with some story of art or magic. His hands had grown weaker, his eyesight less effective, almost as bad as a humans, but still he could hold a bow or cast a spell with other Elves half his age. A vivid image as he had last seen the man came to mind. Hunting with his son and grandson, carrying the bow that he had held for near on a thousand years, doing what he loved to do. A flash of a grin covered Drenn's face as he thought that might not be such a terrible way to die.

Riandr's thoughts were less imaginary, less hopeful. She knew how she would die, a blade in the back or one drawn slowly, purposefully across her throat. It would come at her from the dark, unseen, unheard. She was an assassin, had made a long list of enemies in her life, a list she could now add the Nightmother and possibly a god to! Her death would come quietly, efficiently. The last thing she would see would be the eyes of her killer as he drank her life's spark. The thought sent a shiver up her spine and she decided there was no point in dwelling on it. Instead she focused on the road ahead, shutting off the part of her mind that reminded her she would one day pay for the choices she had made.

The road continued on its upward climb. Riandr had to assume they were now some miles above Falkreath. The path twisted and turned, waist high stone walls lined the road at times, seemingly at pointless intervals. They neither protected the traveler from plummeting off the road to their right nor saved them from the attack of a forest denizen. Riandr imagined they had had a purpose, a millennium ago when they were built. However time and decay had erased any clue as to what. After one such length of stone wall the road turned and offered a slight decline, then stretched straight before them as far as she could see.

Fil turned to her, his excitement obvious. This was exactly as Lod had described to them. The cairn was not far! It was only a few moments before Fil shouted eagerly, pointing to their right. Off the path, less than a few hundred feet away, they could see the head of a stone bird rising above the forest shrubs. It seemed to Fil that the bird leaned slightly to one side, almost as if it was attempting to open its large stony beak and eat some foliage.

At the edge of the road they found a pyramid of stones built just off the road. Covered in dirt and moss the stones were piled five feet high. Fil's excitement grew at the sight. Though he was not certain what the Nordic pyramids meant, he had come, over the years, to see them as a sign that said simply, '_Treasure here_!'

As they traveled down the short dirt pathway to the tomb they found a second statue lost in the trees. Weathered by time and the elements, the stone bird statues still held a silent vigil at the tomb's entrance, their steely glares warning all adventurers away. The sun was almost lost behind the mountains when they approached the lightless tomb entrance.

"It grows late, brother," Riandr offered, knowing he would ignore her.

"Not on your life! I respect what Myllian did for the Orc, but that is _not_ going to get you out of raiding this tomb with me."

Riandr laughed. "I hardly thought it would. I was only suggesting we may want to camp for the night, start fresh in the morning."

"Why, is anyone tired?" Fil glanced at each of them in turn. They shrugged, shaking their heads. "See?! Everyone's fine. Stop trying to postpone this, sis."

Riandr raised her hands in submission. "Then let us proceed." She gestured to the tomb's entrance. Fil moved excitedly toward the opening, only to be distracted by pottery shards lying on the ground. Picking through the broken shards he came upon an intact burial urn laying half buried in the dirt. Gently releasing the lid he exclaimed excitedly as he pulled an amethyst and a few gold septims from it.

"See? We haven't even entered yet and I've already found some booty!" Fil quickly stowed the pieces in his satchel before anyone had a chance to demand a cut. Without glancing at them he dropped into the thieves crouch he had perfected while with the guild and proceeded slowly into the darkened stone entrance.

Whether the tunnel into the tomb was natural or man made they could not tell but it progressed for a way in complete darkness. Drenn and Riandr could see quite easily, Fil and Myllian struggled. They were relieved when the tunnel took an abrupt turn and opened into a small chamber. The room was lit with a faint blue light that poured through the opening at its other end. They could see another chamber through that opening, the roof of the room glowing with the same strange light.

Ignoring the mushrooms that grew along the cavern's walls, Fil crept forward, a growing unease gnawing at his stomach. As he approached the larger chamber he paused, the sight before him causing his stomach to cramp. They stood on a ledge, a short way above the larger chamber's floor. The room was round, with thick stone columns stretching from floor to ceiling. The ceiling itself rose high above them. What caught their attention was not the architecture of the room, but the sight of a large stone pyramid in the center, a bright blue column of energy shooting from it, rising upward and exiting through the room's ceiling. Wisps of bright white light flew in and around the energy, rushing up its body, following it up and out of the room. The coruscating energy gave off a loud buzz similar to the crackle of lightning. Its loud hum was distracting.

"Oh gods," Fil mumbled.

"What?" Myllian whispered, curious at his crestfallen expression.

"Necromancy," he replied.

They moved forward, each taking a position on the edge of the outcropping they stood on. "Are you certain?" Riandr asked.

Fil nodded.

Drenn turned to him. "If I'm not mistaken, that is quite powerful magic."

"Yes. Exceptionally strong." Fil's eyes narrowed as if he suddenly decided to accept a challenge. He whispered a soft spell of Detect Life. Nothing glowed red in the room except his friends, indicating it was devoid of life except their own. "Let's see what we are up against," he murmured and with that stood tall and worked his way down the rocky slope to their right. The others followed him, Riandr at his side, her hands on the hilt of her daggers. As they approached the brilliant column they could see clearer the structure of the chamber. Where they had entered was untouched natural stone, but at the back of the chamber, closer to the pillar of energy, the walls had been carved to form uniform archways. A dozen or so arches filled the back wall of the cavern, their openings filled with rock and stone. All accept one; it was sealed by an iron door, the pulsating blue light of the pillar giving the door an ominous appearance.

A short distance from the energy column lay three bed rolls, in front of those stood a square dais, and atop the dais sat a book. This curiosity would have held their attention if their eyes had not finally adjusted to the brilliant blue light and they noticed the three dead bodies lining the base of the energy column.

Drenn and Myllian paused a moment, caught by the sight. Riandr and Fil moved to the campsite, searching for clues. Next to the book on the dais they found a key. Fil allowed his sister barely a moment to search the dais for traps before he snatched the book from its pedestal, too desperate for answers to wait any longer. The book turned out to be a journal. The owner wrote of how he and two others had left the gang of thieves they worked with, to strike out on their own. During one of Falkreath's violent storms, they had taken shelter in this cave. Finding the cave empty of vermin his compatriots wanted to set up shop here and when the weather cleared, do some raiding. The journal's author had disagreed, knowing the road was deserted this time of year and the chance of them scoring a decent haul was limited.

He continued on to describe how his companions began to grow lethargic, apathetic and exhibited a growing obsession with the pillar. As their fascination for the glowing column of pulsating lights grew, their lethargy increased. He detailed his efforts to get them to leave the cave, to tear them from its hold over them. And then he recorded his own growing lassitude and lack of will.

The last page was horrifying as the man described his own descent into madness. How a seductive voice had begun speaking to him in his mind, filling his head with nothing but the desire to throw himself upon the pillar. Fil glanced at the three bodies at the column's base. It was clear the necromancer had used the lights to slowly hypnotize the bandits until the only urge they had left was to throw themselves onto the column, allowing their bodies' energies to be absorbed by the necromancer.

Fil motioned to his sister and pointed to the final entry. _'We're not alone. I can hear him now. Someone speaking in my mind. Old. Powerful. Halldir, that's the name. He wants something from us. Needs us to stay for the magic to work. I tried to run, can't. Just like them.'_

Riandr glanced from Fil to the pillar to Drenn and Myllian. Her raised eyebrows asked the question. Fil nodded and closed the book, taking the key from the dais. He turned to his friends. "We have our work cut out for us."

They nodded and followed him to the iron door, wanting to put the pillar behind them. The door opened smoothly, revealing a short corridor that ended in a spiral staircase. A grand soul gem lay in a pot to their left. Fil took the gem and handed it to his sister. She placed it in her satchel knowing she would fill it at some point in this tomb. The floor of the corridor was cluttered with broken pottery and half buried statues. A single bowl of magefire lit the tunnel and the circular staircase. They climbed the stairs, quietly creeping along its grey wooden planks. The single light cast long shadows against the tight stone masonry of the walls. The stairs circled around twice and ended in an archway. As they peered through the opening they saw a large tunnel that continued forward for a few yards before dropping out of sight. To their left and right lights emanated from what appeared to be alcoves.

Fil cast a spell of Detect Life. When the spell revealed nothing lived near him but his friends, he moved slowly into the hallway, stepping noiselessly to his left. The alcove proved to be a work area of some sort. A large table filled the space, bracketed by a set of shelves on either side. The table held a few ruined books and two pairs of embalming tools. Over the table and embedded in the wall was an intricate carving of a mage, a staff of power in each of his hands, his face covered by a mask. Fil glanced at Riandr who nodded. The stone carving held a disturbing resemblance to the carvings they had seen at Xarthias. Fil turned to the shelves on the left to find another soul gem and a pair of beautifully crafted gauntlets. He lifted the gauntlets from their resting place, letting the torchlight flicker over them. The moonstone used in their construction gave off a soft creamy glow; malachite could be seen in the tiny inlaid ivy pattern that ran across the palm. The ivy added a soft green shimmer. He could detect no enchantment on them, but they were beautiful and well-made and worthy of a place in his satchel. The bizarre assortment of treasure he found when in a tomb never ceased to amaze him. He tossed his sister the gem, and then turned, searching for the others.

Drenn and Myllian had worked their way to the right of the entrance. Their hallway held a few bookcases and shelves as well, but did not end in an alcove. Their corridor continued up a steep incline and ended in a wooden door. Fil and Riandr moved quietly to their side, passing what they had thought might be the central corridor but was in actuality only a short staircase leading down to a small pool. A constant stream of water flowed through a crack in the ceiling splashing into the pool of water below. The sound echoed in the tiny chamber.

Fil took a moment to open a burial urn tucked up next to one of the bookcases. It held only a few septims and so was a disappointment to him. The bookcases held only linen wraps and a great many ruined books, also a great disappointment. As they neared the top of the corridor Myllian raised her hand, halting their movement. In the dim light by the wooden door they could distinguish two misty blue forms. Their shapes seemed to ebb and flow, solid and yet ethereal simultaneously.

Riandr started to move into the shadows, signaling to the others that she could handle these two on her own. Fil touched her arm, motioning to his sister to be careful. They were not living entities or they would have been revealed by his spell. The undead were dangerous, even in misty form.

Riandr nodded and silently moved closer to the specters, one with the shadows that filled the corridor. Drenn was once again amazed that though the woman stood only feet from him she was completely invisible. Even with his keen Elven eyesight, he would never have guessed she was there. She crept silent and unseen upon the apparitions, her daggers pulsing in her hands. The first one stood so close she could have picked his pocket, if he had had one. She flipped the Elven dagger in her left hand, grasping the hilt so the blade pointed to the floor, then plunged the daggers into his back, driving the Elven blade downward and thrusting Silence upward. The ghost groaned softly and then shivered for a moment and burst into a bizarre filmy cloud. The second specter had only a moment to register his partner's fate before she leapt out of the shadows and drove her daggers downward, into his neck. He too shivered for a moment before bursting into the same cloud of ghostly remains.

The others joined her, staring at the light blue puddles of undulating dust on the floor. "Well that's something new," Fil offered.

Riandr replaced her daggers and turning to the door, began to check for traps. Satisfied that the door held no surprises, she took a lockpick from her sleeve and set to work. It took her only a moment to work the adept level lock, and when the final bolt fell into place she pushed the door open.

Fil leaned against the door frame, grinning as he tapped the master key he had removed from the pedestal, against his cheek. Riandr grinned sheepishly when she saw it. "Oh right, I had forgotten about that."

They stepped into the room, alert for any sound or movement, however it was not enough. Two more specters, seated in stone chairs bracketing the doorway rose as they entered the room. They heard a sword scrap nosily against its sheath, but instead of calling them to battle, it sent a chill down their spines. The sound was different somehow, hollow… empty.

Then a cold spectral voice eerily asked, _"Do I hear the sounds of the living… among the dead?"_

Fil froze for a moment, the voice filling him with a dread he could not shake. Riandr's daggers were back in her hands, Drenn's bow notched in less than a heartbeat. Myllian leapt into the room and pulled her axe from its sheath, swinging it in a powerful arc that split the first specter in two. He exploded in the same cloud of blue mist as the others. As she turned to glare at the second specter he took a step backward, raising his mace, preparing to attack. Intent on Myllian's axe and not where he was stepping his ghostly foot hit a circular stone in the floor and with a loud creak a studded metal door swung out from the wall behind him, slamming the specter in the back. The ghost, his spectral visage showing his surprise, let out a groan and then exploded, settling into a dusty, glowing mound upon the floor.

They glanced at each other, then at the floor and with a mocking grin Fil offered, "Let's avoid these circular pressure plates, shall we?" They nodded in complete agreement.


	18. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

Drenn moved to an opening in the southern wall, his Elven senses scanning the passage for trouble. The narrow stone corridor descended for a few feet before turning north and disappearing from sight. A single sputtering torch clung to life in its metal sconce, casting shadows that danced in the tight passage. He glanced at the others and then made his way down the short incline. Pressing himself against the wall, he peered around the corner to find the tight passageway empty but for a short set of stone stairs descending into what appeared to be a larger room.

Hanging from the ceiling at the bottom of the stairs were long strands of hide with blanched human bones attached to them. The slightest touch would cause the bones to rattle, alerting anything alive or undead to their presence. They moved under the bones with great care, hoping to catch off guard whoever or whatever had laid the disturbing trap.

Fil was not surprised to find the walls of this room lined with beds of stone, the last resting place for hundreds of Nord dead. As he moved through the room he noticed not all of the beds were filled and some held skeletons, truly lifeless bones left to rest in peace. However he knew at some point they would come across the beds that held the draugr. The lifeless corpses that would sense their presence, arise from their stone beds and attempt to destroy them. They would fail certainly, but they would try.

The chamber ended in another tight corridor. Myllian entered the narrow passage first, shoving Drenn out of the way in the process. Riandr placed a hand on Drenn's arm, his look of confusion almost making her laugh out loud. The look she gave him begged for his patience with her friend. He nodded and then turned to hide the grin that played with his lips.

Fil followed Myllian into the corridor, cursing himself for never learning the spell for detecting the dead. It was a spell from the school of Alteration, a branch of magic he had ignored while at the college. A choice he now kicked himself for. He had mastered magelight of course, an obvious imperative spell. And detect life, another spell he used constantly. The only other spell he had been driven to learn had been 'transmute', because as any good thief would tell you, the ability to turn iron to silver and silver to gold was, well, a vital part of your spellcasting arsenal. No, it wouldn't save your life in a tomb like this, but it would allow you the opportunity to woo the wenches when you got out!

The passage way opened into a darkened alcove and then made another abrupt turn to the right, widening until it was almost twice as broad and offering a long set of stone stairs, lit by magefire on a pedestal at its peak. Myllian waited at the base of the stairs, her focus on the platform above her. Fil moved further into the corridor's alcove, the sight of a bulging sac lying in a broken pot catching his attention. As he reached for the sac a deep growl echoed from the western wall. The wall, curved and shrouded in shadow intensified the noise and it seemed to come from everywhere at once. Fil flicked a hand, a small ball of fire lighting his palm, however before he could release his spell Drenn had notched another arrow and let it fly in the direction of the threat. There was a soft thud as the bolt hit flesh and cloth, then the distinct clank of metal on stone. Then silence.

Fil sighed and tossed Drenn a look of annoyance. He flicked his wrist and changed his spell to a ball of magelight and cast the spell into the darkness. In the blue glow of the magelight he could see the dried up husk of a warrior laying in one of the stone beds. Its skin, wrinkled and gray, clung to him. His armor, ancient and weathered hung loosely from his desiccated corpse. A glass arrow protruded from his right side.

Drenn moved to the corpse and yanked the bolt from the now dead draugr, tearing its flesh like paper. He gestured to the sac at Fil's feet. "Anything good?" he asked.

Fil lifted the sac and grinned. "Gold, my friend."

"Always welcome," Drenn whispered as he joined Riandr by the base of the steps.

Silently they worked their way up the stairs, Drenn and Riandr to the left, Fil and Myllian on the right. As they reached its apex Riandr peered over the top of the platform, not surprised to find a stone chair a few yards in front of them. Seated in the chair was a draugr, motionless almost as if he were carved from the same stone he sat upon.

Riandr motioned to Fil to be ready, certain that though the draugr looked lifeless, it was simply waiting. She nodded to Drenn to move forward and the Elf crept silently onto the platform, his arrow readied. He released the arrow and grinned at the perfection of its flight. It burst into flame and sang as it cut through the air and then pierced the draugr with a soft thud, straight through his heart. The undead creature howled in surprise and then shuddered and slumped forward. Riandr joined Drenn on the platform. "Nicely done," she murmured.

Fil hesitated by the pedestal, his attention caught by the tome lying atop. Raise zombie was from the school of conjuration; it was a spell he was quite familiar with and so did not need for himself, however the book might be worth a few septims so he shoved the tome into his satchel.

They met no further danger as they worked their way down the hall. Drenn attempted to recover his arrow but found it deeply embedded in the draugr's bone. The corridor ended in another large alcove. Empty stone beds lined the walls, debris and dust covered the floor. Another stone throne sat in the center of the room, empty and covered in dust. There was only one egress from the alcove, but the door was barred by an iron gate.

"Want me to smash it, boss?" Myllian grunted as she grabbed the gate and tried to shove it upward.

Riandr ran her fingers over the portal, searching for a hinge or lynch pin, anything that might release the gate. "I'd rather not dent Dragon's Doom if we don't have to," she muttered to her friend as she squatted down, her fingers gently caressing the door sill.

Fil moved through the alcove, muttering to himself at the lack of swag in the tomb. "It's because he's a necromancer," he muttered angrily. "Crazy lot. All of them. You have all this power and what do you collect?" Fil strode to the throne in the center of the alcove. "Undead! That's what you collect," he sighed and placed his hands on the back of the stone chair, running his hands over the intricate stone filigree work around the headrest. "Necromancers are crazy, all of them. I mean why put all this work into a throne no one alive will ever sit in! Look! Look at this detail! It's gorgeous. And these pommels, what about these…" Fil's voice trailed off as he ran his hand over the right finial, brushing off centuries of dust. The rounded pommel began to glow a fiery red in the dim light. "Well what do we have here?" Fil said excitedly as he stepped closer to the chair, leaning in to inspect the luminous glow.

As he stepped closer to the throne he placed his foot on what he thought was stable flooring. His weight, however, caused the stone to sink into the floor. As it sank, the gate blocking their exit shook and began to rise, grating against the doorframe as it did.

Still in her crouch Riandr turned to Fil. "Well done, brother, I thought…" she paused as the finial beneath Fil's hand began to flash violently. "FIL!" Riandr cried and sprung from her crouch, crossing the distance between her and her brother in an instant, knocking him to the ground. Before Fil could form a complaint, a beam of red light shot from the pommel through the spot Fil had just been, flying across the room to burst against a section of stone on the alcove wall, shattering the stone where it hit. Shards of rock shot through the air, sprinkling the two of them with dust and stone.

Without a word Myllian swung Dragon's Doom across the top of the throne, separating the finials from the chair. They rolled down the stairs, bouncing from step to step, their clatter echoing in the stone corridor.

Fil glanced at his sister, her body arched over his, protecting him. There was a sheepish grin on his face when he murmured, "That… that was a trap."

Riandr sighed and sat up, shaking her head. "I have no idea how you have managed to survive, brother. No idea at all."

Fil shrugged. "Luck? At least the gate is open!"

Drenn offered them both a hand, pulling them to their feet. "I would quit now, mage. It would be safer."

Myllian tried to keep the grin off her face as she motioned for the others to pass through the gate first. They continued on, following the corridor as it twisted and turned, occasionally offering them additional short staircases to climb and spectral warriors to vanquish. After what seemed like an eternity, the corridor came to an abrupt end, emptying into a circular chamber that held a large stone column in its center.

They dispatched the two ghosts and a draugr who filled the chamber and began searching for an exit. Riandr picked the lock of an iron door, hoping it would lead them deeper into the tomb. However it was a dead end that only offered Fil a chance to raid a half buried chest which he did with relish, pocketing the septims and offering the glass arrows it contained to Drenn. After they had looted the few soul gems and burial urns the room offered they set about trying to solve its puzzle.

There were no exits from the room save for the door they entered through. A single lever sat to the left of that doorway. When Fil reached for the switch Riandr shoved the mage aside, growling her annoyance. She motioned to the small openings in the walls and ceiling near the lever. Gesturing to the others to step out of the room, she stood away from the lever and against a solid section of the wall, and then pulled the switch. Immediately the air was filled with a hundred darts, shooting through the air at a deadly speed.

"Oh yes… I see," Fil murmured.

Riandr rolled her eyes and sighed. How in the name of the gods had her brother survived her five years away? Walking the room she wasn't surprised to find three separate pyramids with stone carvings on them. The Nords were nothing if not predictable. The small pyramids and carvings were exactly like the ones they had found at the ruin outside of Whiterun. She gestured to the carvings and Myllian nodded.

"Just like Whiterun, eh boss?" Myllian moved further into the room. "And look, each pyramid has two similar carvings directly across from it." Riandr glanced up, noting the carvings differed in each section of the chamber.

"Shall we turn them until they match up?" Fil asked jovially, relieved that this puzzle at least he understood.

They each took a pillar, turning its carving so it matched those on the wall opposite it. Drenn was lost at first, then as he grasped what they were doing, bent down and helped Fil rotate his pillar. 'The man may be a powerful mage,' Drenn thought as he aided his friend, 'but he doesn't offer much in upper body strength.'

When each pillar matched their counterparts, hawk, snake, whale, Riandr had them once again step out of the room. Again she placed her back against solid rock, reached out and pulled the lever. This time deadly bolts did not fly from the walls or ceiling, instead the 'solid rock' she leaned against abruptly moved, disappearing into the wall to her right, opening up an entrance to a tunnel beyond. Caught unaware, the wall behind her suddenly ceasing to support her, she began to tumble backwards. Her arms flew in a wild, circular motion over her head as she desperately tried to catch her balance, barely prevented herself from crashing to the floor. Gathering herself she turned toward the others, wondering if they had seen her stumble. They stood before her, their gaze on the ceiling and floor, whistling as if nothing had occurred. However none of them tried to keep the grins from their faces. Riandr shook her head and sighed; she knew without a doubt this moment would be mentioned frequently and with great delight.

Turning her back on their grinning faces she stepped into the tunnel. This part of the tomb was completely natural, simple jagged rock facings with a small pool of water to their right. Large clusters of mushrooms dotted the edge of the water and Fil couldn't resist picking the fungi, they were simply too powerful to pass up. They ignored the small pool and turned west, creeping quietly along a short, damp tunnel, into an even smaller chamber. Riandr had only a moment to register the two stone chairs that stood a few feet in front of them before suddenly spectral bodies filled them. Drenn shot the spirits before they had a chance to rise from their seats.

Myllian turned to the Elf, her tone gruff. "I grow tired of you, archer."

Drenn, his tone respectful even though his expression was mocking, replied, "My apologies, would you prefer it if I held back in the next chamber?"

Sighing Myllian grumbled, "No. Just getting bored, that's all."

Fil paused over the cloudy pile of shimmering dust on the chairs. His curiosity getting the better of him, he reached out and touched the remains. His fingers tingled at the contact and he paused a moment. "Fascinating," he murmured, and then shoved his hand into the glowing pile. A look of surprise came over him as not only his hand, but his arm up to his elbow disappeared into the blue dust. "By the gods! I can feel things," he exclaimed, as he moved his hand around the pile, causing glowing dust to rise into the air. "Armor, bracers, shoes, oh a long bow! Wait," he murmured as he tightened his grip around something and pulled it from the dust. "Drenn look! Your arrow!"

Drenn took the glass arrow from Fil, checking its integrity. "It's fine. Perfectly sound. How curious."

"Well… dung," Fil grumbled.

"What now, brother?"

"I just realized I could have been checking all those dust piles for gold!"

Riandr laughed at the look of exasperation on his face. "It seems you are slipping, little brother," she teased.

Fil's eye narrowed and with a grin he purred, "Speaking of slipping…" When Riandr growled at him he laughed and asked, "What? Too soon?"

Without glancing back at her brother Riandr continued forward, halting the band as she caught sight of a trap blocking the tunnel passage. It took a moment for her to disarm the spring, the trap's mechanism set to release a battering ram that would have swung from the ceiling, badly injuring them. They followed this tunnel until it came to an end in a small chamber. A table with a locked chest and an assortment of treasure sat against a wall. To his credit even Fil saw the trap wire running from the chest to the table. He waited patiently while Riandr worked her magic on the trap mechanism. She disarmed it and he eagerly lifted the lid, revealing a beautiful glowing emerald and a sizable amount of coin. Excited, he pocketed both.

Myllian took an Orc hammer from the table, checking its heft and balance. She spun the weapon in an arc, shifting her weight from one foot to another. It was a beautiful weapon, expertly crafted. But it was no match for her Dwarven axe, so she returned to the table. A glass helmet sat to the side and she reached for it, tracing its fine malachite trimming with her fingers.

"Try it on," Riandr suggested. She had never seen Myllian wear a helmet, why she didn't Riandr wasn't sure.

Myllian paused a moment before placing the helmet on her head. It was light, and certainly beautifully crafted, but helmets had always given her a strange sense of confinement. Almost as if, by blocking her ears, she was more vulnerable to attack.

"It looks nice," Drenn offered.

The warrior shrugged and decided she might was well give it a try. Perhaps it wouldn't be as bad as she thought.

Riandr picked up the black soul gem that lay on the table. "If no one minds?" They shook their heads agreeing that she should have the stone. Fil rummaged through the two burial urns that sat on the chamber floor. He offered Drenn the septims he found, plus a silver ring. As the room was a dead end they retraced their steps, following another tunnel heading north. The tunnel again meandered through the tomb, offering them a climb up three more short staircases before coming to end at a small platform with an open door. The jagged tips of an iron gate hung slightly below the lip of the door frame, bringing to mind a giant beast's open maw and razor sharp teeth. They could see from the doorway that the room beyond was large and circular. The column of energy they had encounter at the entrance of the tomb rose through a trap door in the center of the room. Its brilliant blue light bristled and sparked with power. It was surrounded by four stone columns. Platforms filled the corners of the room and enormous braziers hung from the ceiling, filled with magefire. From where they stood the only entity they could see was a lone draugr who paced inside the column of energy. Fil turned to his friends knowing full well that they would encounter the necromancer here, in the heart of his lair.

"I know the room appears almost empty, but he may have an army of undead with him, to protect him. Our best chance is to separate, destroy as many of his minions as possible. This will decrease his power. They fight to protect him and serve as a power source."

"Crass as it may sound; I will use your battle as a distraction. I will head for the necromancer." Riandr pulled her daggers from their sheaths, reading the blades. They understood her deadly skills and trusted her completely.

"I will make as big a distraction as I can, boss lady," Myllian added with a grin.

They each readied their weapons. Fil filled each hand with a spell, Drenn notched a glass arrow and Myllian removed Dragon's Doom from its sheath. They entered the room silently, but were not surprised when after a few steps, the gate behind them crashed to the ground, trapping them inside. After that there was no point in subterfuge for anyone other than Riandr. With her warrior's cry echoing from the rafters Myllian ran forward, her axe held high. She raced toward the lone draugr, having decided his head would be her first target.

Drenn glanced around the room, registering a platform to his left that held a table. The table and dais would give him added height and the advantage. He leapt upon the table, and pulling his bow taut searched for a target.

Fil could just make out a throne through the haze of the energy column, on the opposite side of the room. He knew necromancers, knew how they thought, how they craved power. He also knew with a certainty that if Halldir was still human, he would be seated in that chair. Fil drew his magicka to him, filling his body with its power as he readied himself to release his spells casting them forward, toward the throne.

As Myllian breached the distance between her and the draugr her axe finished its arc, aiming for its neck. The undead creature turned toward her, bellowing its rage at her and as her axe passed through its body it exploded in a violent concussive blast. The shock of the explosion lifted her into the air. She flew backwards across the open expanse, smashed into a stone column and dropped to the floor, stunned.

The explosion seemed to ricochet around the room, shaking the stones, filling the air with its power. Then the energy split in three, landing on the two platforms that guarded the door where they entered and the throne in the back of the room. Fil spun around, feeling the magicka coalesce on the platforms on either side of him and with a thunderous boom a figure exploded onto each dais. To his left stood a man of ice, to his right a man of fire. Fil glanced at his hands, noting that he held ice in left hand, fire in his right. He grimaced as he realized he had to turn his spells around. With a flick of his wrists he altered his spells and racing forward, he decided to try a warrior's cry. Finding the sound invigorating he shot his spells at the necromancer, fighting fire with ice and ice with fire.

Drenn stood atop the table, frozen for an instant. He hadn't counted on the necromancer appearing two feet in front of him. Pressing himself against the wall he knew the figure on his dais was too close, his arrows would not have enough time to gather the power they drew from their flight. His bolts would be more effective against the ice man across the room. As he tried to blend into the darkness he hoped his study of Riandr's abilities might now pay off. He held his breath, took his aim and let fly his flaming arrow. Before the bolt had hit its mark he had already notched another arrow and sent it racing toward the ice form.

Out of the corner of his eye Fil saw Drenn's arrow shoot across the room and watched as it embedded itself in the ice figure. Recognizing his friend was attacking the ice mage he decided to focus on the burning mage. He increased the intensity of his ice spell, calling forth an ice spear. With the electric charge of his magicka filling him he flung the spell at the burning form impaling him with it. The fiery figure staggered but remained standing. He pulled his arm back and as the burning man paused it seemed to Fil that the flames of his body were pulled into his palm, forming a tremendous fireball. With a gasp Fil threw up a ward, a large shield of protective magicka energy. The fireball hit him a second after he erected his ward. The flames burst against the ward but their intensity was such they curled around its edges, like water around a stone, filling the air around Fil, burning his lungs and causing him to stumble backwards.

Riandr, having worked her way through the shadows to the back of the room, had gone unnoticed by the crackling form of energy that had appeared on the throne before her. It had taken her only a moment to leap upon the figure, burying her daggers in his back with deadly accuracy. He had exploded, leaving only a pile of ash on the floor. She had then begun working her way across the room to her brother's side. As the fiery necromancer released his ball of flame at Fil she instantly changed direction. With a vicious growl she crossed the distance between her and the evil mage in a single lunge. She leapt upon the table where Drenn stood, and then using her momentum, thrust off the wall to fly through the air. She dropped onto the burning necromancer, thrusting her daggers deep into its skull. He, like his brother, exploded into ash.

To his credit Drenn paused only a fraction of a second to watch her, then quickly shot forth bolt after flaming bolt into the icy form of the necromancer. The creature howled, and then turned on Fil who sat only a few feet from him, trying to breathe. The necromancer paused to gather his strength and Drenn took the opportunity to let loose another burning arrow and Fil, not quite ready to die, raised his hand and sent a fireball soaring at the mage. Drenn's arrow and Fil's spell hit at the same moment. The necromancer screamed in fury and then burst into ash.

They stood silent for a moment trying to catch their breath, when the air around them began to crackle with energy once again. The column of necromantic energy that still rose through the grate in the center of the room began to pulse with light. Sparks flew from the column, danced about the room, growing stronger, brighter as they moved. Then they raced back to the column, adding their energy to it. They had only a moment to ready themselves before a form began to coalesce. Riandr glanced at Fil and he nodded. This had to be Halldir reformed in the midst of his energy pillar. Completely formed, the Necromancer who was once Halldir tilted his head back and laughed, it was a low and terrible sound. Then he flicked his wrists, the beginning of a powerful lightening spell filling his palms.

Riandr braced herself to lunge, Drenn notched another arrow, and Fil from his position on the floor, tried to catch enough of a breath to concentrate and form a spell. With a suddenness that shocked them all, Halldir's laughter stopped, his head disengaged itself from its body and flew across the room, his body exploding into dust. As the ash settled and the column of energy dissipated, they could see Myllian; axe resting against her shoulder, grinning at them.

"Rule number one, never turn your back on an enemy," she lectured. The others burst out laughing.

Myllian crossed the room and helped Fil to his feet. "You all right, mage?"

Fil nodded. "I will be shortly," he managed to wheeze. Pulling a potion of healing from his satchel, he took a long draught of the healing fluid. "Anyone else?" He offered the bottle to each of them but the rest felt none the worse for wear. Myllian pulled the glass helmet off her head, inspecting the large dent in the back of it.

"I am glad you were wearing that, my friend," Riandr said. "That could very well have happened to the back of your head."

Myllian shrugged and tapping her head with her fist replied, "I think my skull is made of harder metal."

They took their time pillaging the room. There were a few weapons of interest, a sac of gold coin on a shelf. Raiding the dust pile that was once Halldir, Fil found both gold coin and an interesting staff. A chest by the throne offered a few hundred septims, some armor and a drum.

"Anyone want the drum?" Fil asked, uncertain as to why Halldir would have placed a drum in his private chest. Each of them declined the offer and seeing no reason to haul a Bardic drum around he left the thing in the trunk.

Riandr worked the lock on the iron trap door in the floor. It sprung open revealing circular stone walls that were lined with wooden platforms. Rather than retrace their steps back through the tomb, they dropped one by one onto the platforms, coming to rest on the stone pyramid in the entrance chamber. The pyramid was now quiet, its mystical energy dissipated with the destruction of Halldir. They dropped off the pile, taking care not to disturb the bodies of the dead bandits and then worked their way quickly back through the entrance tunnel, happy to be breathing fresh air once again.

As it was barely midnight they decided to return to Falkreath rather than camp. It would only take a few hours to reach the city and they all admitted they longed for a cold pint and a soft bed.

They traveled quietly for a while, Drenn and Riandr ahead, Myllian and Fil a little behind, listening to the forest as they went. Fil, curious about the staff he had found, began casting its spell into the forest around them. Though the spell shot forth from the staff with great vigor, to his great disappointment nothing happened.

"You know that could have been a staff of lightening or Daedra summoning? You're a bit careless with our lives," Myllian reprimanded him with a grin, having trouble keeping a straight face when the thought of battling a Daedra made her hands ache for her axe.

"Please, warrior." Fil rolled his eyes, affronted. "I've studied at Winterhold. I have some understanding of how a staff works. See here," he said and held the staff close to her, pointing to the body of the weapon. "This is mahogany. A gorgeous hard wood that has been polished to a deep burgundy. This stone…" he said as he pointed the tip of the staff at her. She glared at him. "Well…" he mumbled and pulled the staff away. Unable to hide his grin he added, "The stone is a beautiful piece of diamond. Quite valuable in its own right, but also an amazing conductor. What I can't figure out…" he mumbled and pointed the staff into the forest again. A soft wave of white light burst from the end. Pouring from the staff in a funnel shape, the light was easily ten feet wide as it entered the forest. They could see it penetrate the woods, lighting up the area it touched for a few seconds, before dissipating.

"Brother," Riandr's tone was annoyed.

"Sister," Fil's tone was mocking. "Magic is often about trial and error, Ri. Experiments must be performed, results must be evaluated."

"Could you try not experimenting on me, mage?" Myllian grumbled.

"I can try, warrior. But I cannot promise."

"Then I will try not to cut you with my blade."

Fil nodded. "Fair enough."

Drenn laughed softly in the dark. "He is a handful for you." The Elf glanced at her, hoping he did not offend.

Riandr smiled and agreed, "Since we were children." She turned to Drenn, curious. "Do have any siblings?"

Drenn shook his head. "No. Elves do not often have multiple offspring. It is difficult for us to conceive. Well, unless we mate with humans. That seems to trigger a more fertile response for Elven women."

"Really," Riandr realized with a start that she knew very little about Dark Elf culture. Her only experience was with those Dark Elves involved in the Thieves Guild, and even then her knowledge focused on their skills as thieves, not their heritage as Dark Elves. "Do the Dunmer mate with humans often? I do not wish to be rude but my experience with Dark Elves is that they see the other races as well, beneath them."

Drenn's smile held a touch of guilt. "That is true. I can not deny it. The Dunmer can be as arrogant and self-righteous as the Thalmor, the Dwemer or even the Nords." He added the last with a grin.

Riandr laughed. "I agree with you there. They are an arrogant lot, the Nords. I can not tell you how often I have had to pummel a Nord because of…" She glanced back at her brother.

"I understand. It's why I travel the forests. Not accepted by my people, rejected by the Nords. The woods, as feral and untamed as they are, are safer and more welcoming than the villages for me," he spoke the last with only the slightest hint of regret.

"Why not return to Morrowind?"

Drenn took a moment before answering. It was a logical choice, to return to his homeland, to remove himself from the prejudice and hatred he encountered here. And yet, he had not been able to bring himself to leave. Something held him here, kept him hunting the wilds, bearing the injustice. "I suppose… I do not know." He grinned at her. "The simple answer might be I have fallen in love with the woods, the mountains, and the beauty of Skyrim. However, I must admit that in Morrowind I am also unwelcome. My lack of magic and my rejection of the Tribunal brands me as much of an outcast in my homeland as my Dunmer skin makes me in Skyrim."

"Tribunal?"

Drenn glanced at her, uncertain if she were toying with him. How could any race, even Man, not be aware of the Tribunal? "Yes. Those who were the Living Gods?"

"I'm sorry. I'm not familiar with your beliefs," Riandr murmured feeling slightly guilty at her ignorance.

"No. No… I understand." He sighed, trying to condense thousands of years of history into a few sentences. "The Tribunal consisted of Vivec, Almalexia and Sotha Sil. They were Mer once, thousand of years ago, in the first era. Officers and stewards of Lord Nerevar, but simple Chimer nonetheless. They were present at the first eruption of the Red Mountain, early in the first era. Shortly after, or so we are taught, they were blessed with godhood. The three living gods then formed the Tribunal which ruled over Morrowind for thousands of years until the end of the third era when suddenly they disappeared."

"The Chimer," Riandr asked, "they are your ancestors?"

"Yes. That is the name for my people before the 'blessing' of our present appearance. As Chimer we were much like our Altmer cousins, fair skinned and golden eyed. Then, so the temple preaches, the three were blessed by Azura as Living Gods and my people were granted skin of grey ash and eyes of flame."

Riandr glanced at him, a smile on her face.

"What is running through your mind, boss lady?" Drenn teased.

"I'm trying to picture you all pale and pretty. I'm not sure it would be an improvement," she laughed. When he growled softly she asked, "So the Tribunal just, disappeared?"

Drenn nodded. "Yes, at the end of the third era. Not long after that the Ministry of Truth, an immense structure that had hovered over Vivec City for a millennium, plummeted to the ground destroying the city. It also caused Dagoth Ur, the Red Mountain to erupt."

"By the gods!"

"The ash that spewed forth is what caused the 'Red Year'. Ash, flame, lava covered the island of Vvardenfell, destroying so much of what was once a thriving, beautiful land. During that time of pain and confusion, the Argonians of Black Marsh attacked. Most of my countrymen fled Vvardenfell finding shelter in Solstheim, Cyrodiil and Skyrim."

"I knew of the 'Red Year', but not what had caused it. That was over two hundred years ago, wasn't it?"

Drenn nodded and softly added, "I remember it as if it were yesterday. So much death and devastation, so many lives lost, and the Tribunal nowhere to be found."

"What of your family?"

"They stayed in Morrowind. Were I am from, the northwest, was spared much of the turbulence the rest of our land suffered."

"This Tribunal… simply disappeared?"

"As far as is known. The priests of the Tribunal had been the only real connection to the living gods that most of my people had. They tried to keep the Tribunal alive and with it their own power, however slowly my people are returning to worship of the Daedric lords."

"Daedric? I didn't realize… do you? Worship a Daedric prince?" Riandr asked haltingly. She was not one to judge a person for whom they worshiped, being a devotee of Sithis, the Dark Father. However she had not thought of Drenn as a Daedric worshiper.

Drenn shrugged. "I am not a particularly religious man; however I do find my thoughts turning to Azura, she who was the patron of my people before the Tribunal outlawed Daedra worship."

"The Tribunal outlawed Daedra worship?"

"Yes. One minute Azura was the Chimer patron, then suddenly the Tribunal became living gods and worship of Azura was outlawed. I have always found that… disturbing."

"I find that quite fascinating."

"Why?" Drenn turned to her, curious.

"That your living gods outlawed Daedra worship. It's interesting because of its similarity to what the Nords face now. Thalmor Elves outlawing the worship of Talos." Riandr smiled at Drenn, hoping he did not find her comparison offensive.

Drenn laughed softly. "I had not made the comparison. But yes, I do see your point. I will also admit that during the time of the Tribunal it was not good for your health if you did not worship the Living Gods."

Riandr glanced at him, noting the concern that lay just below his calm exterior. Her tone was somber when she said, "Well, we are glad you are here with us. You are a brave and gifted man Drenn. I am lucky to call you friend."

Drenn nodded in response, acknowledging the compliment, then turned away. He could not explain why, but his feelings for this human woman were growing more complex by the day. Fil and Myllian were fine friends, good people, but the woman next to him was different. She was an obvious leader, a fine tactician and a cunning fighter. She displayed intellect, wisdom and compassion, had been stalwart with her friends and willing to put her life on the line to save complete strangers. He thought it was a strange combination of qualities to find in an assassin, even more extraordinary to find in a human. As he glanced at her he knew, without question, he would die for her if need be. But why? Why did he feel this way? Why had this human woman drawn such devotion from him in so little time? He was startled when she spoke.

"Speaking of gifted," Riandr grinned, "You would not perchance be willing to train a much older student?"

"What do you mean?" Drenn asked, curious.

"Well lately it has become painfully obvious that I am sadly lacking in any long range skills."

"You?" Drenn laughed. "You want me to teach you... what? Archery?"

Riandr sighed, recognizing that she must be too old. Most bowmen started as soon as they could walk. "Never mind. I understand. It is a lot to ask." She motioned to their left where the stone road turned west, back towards Falkreath, hiding her disappointment behind a mask of calm.

Drenn stopped in his tracks. "No!" he said angrily. "I was not mocking you! I would love to teach you. I was merely surprised."

"Surprised?" Riandr laughed. "Why?"

"You seem so… capable." 'for a human,' he almost said, but stopped himself in time. To cover his hesitation Drenn started down the road again, shaking his head. "I can't imagine there's anything you cannot do."

Fil's laughter echoed through the trees, frightening a few bats from their rocky perch. "Good gods, man, do you know how hard I have to work at keeping my sister's ego at bay? You are single handedly destroying all of my efforts!"

"Ha!" Riandr snorted. "If one of us has an ego problem, little brother, it is certainly not me!"

"See?" Fil poked his sister on her back with the staff, "she's completely oblivious to it. It's quite annoying."

Myllian grabbed the staff from Fil, threatening to smash it over her knee. "I give up!" he sighed. "You two always win."

"You've got that right anyway," Myllian laughed.

"Seriously though, Drenn, will you teach me?"

"Of course! It would be an honor," as he spoke he realized that it truly would be an honor for him. Again he asked himself, why do I care so much for this woman?

"Wonderful. We still have at least a week before the contract arrives. If we start right away I should be able to at least…" her voice trailed off and she came to an abrupt halt. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. Raising her hand to halt the others, she stared into the darkened forest surrounding them. It was after midnight now, the moons were high in the sky, lighting the path but making the darkness in the woods more difficult to penetrate.

She stretched out her senses, using her training as thief and assassin, reading the wind, the trees, the silence. There was nothing on the wind, no sound from the forest, no rush of bird or scent on the wind and yet every instinct in her screamed 'danger'. She was about to question herself, to apologize for concerning her friends, when she sensed him. High above them on a rocky ledge he crouched, watching… waiting.

Fil moved to her side, his right hand glowing, he whispered, "Life form, high above us, on the…"

"I know," she whispered. She motioned to them to continue forward down the road. Fil gave her a look of protest that she quickly squelched. With great reluctance they moved away, each of them silently preparing their weapons. None of them had any intention of going far.

She waited, still as the stone he crouched upon. It was only the soft sound of pebbles trickling down the stone ledge that gave him away. He was good; she was forced to admit to herself, quite good. But she was better.

"Z'nder." She turned to him, grinning. At the moment she had no idea if he knew of her part in the deaths of their cell members, but she had to assume he knew something, otherwise he would not have sought her out.

"Riandr," Z'nder whispered, his tone was warm, inviting as if greeting a long lost friend. As a Khajiit the man was gifted with an abundance of sexual appeal. He could use his voice alone to lure a mark to their deaths. Riandr braced herself against its affects.

"What brings you to Falkreath, brother?" she kept her tone lightly curious.

Z'nder stepped closer to her. He stood a good head taller than she, his face covered in calico spots. The rest of his body was covered in assassin's armor but he had always preferred to leave his hood off. She imagined it had a lot to do with the Khajiit ears. They could pivot independently; he could hear and assimilate sounds all around him. A skill that she had envied in the past and now cursed. He leaned in and sniffed her hair. "You smell of tomb, sister."

Riandr did not respond.

"What have you been up to?" Z'nder purred.

"Is that why you have sought me out, brother? To ask what I do with my spare time?" She allowed irritation to creep into her tone.

The Khajiit laughed. "Of course not, Ri. This one has come to deliver a message." As he spoke he moved to stand directly behind her. He yanked her hood from her head, letting his fingers dance through her hair for a moment before pulling it back, exposing her neck. She neither moved nor flinched.

"And the message is?" her tone was now unmistakably annoyed.

He leaned in, letting his breath warm the pulse at her throat. "The contract is at Vol'vahlok. You need to meet him there as soon as possible."

Riandr forced her body to relax, leaning back against him as if she were overwhelmed by his charm. "Then I will leave in the morning. Vol'vahlok is quite a distance."

"Hmmm…" Z'nder murmured against her throat.

"Did she send you?" Riandr's tone was deep and slightly distracted, sounding for all the world as if she found it impossible to resist the man.

At that he chuckled against her throat, it was not a happy sound. "Of course. Why else would this one come with such a message?"

She moaned softly, moving against him. "I am glad you came, brother. Perhaps you could… spend the night?"

In a flash she felt the edge of a blade against her throat. "Why, sister? So you might finish your assignment? Z'nder is not like the others, blinded by foolish emotions. This one knows there is no such thing as honor. This one is not ready to join the Dark Father."

Riandr laughed, it was low and mocking. "Really, brother, I have no idea what you are talking about."

The blade was pressed tighter against her throat. "Do not lie. This one knows it was you who sent the others to our Father's waiting arms. The Nightmother has spoken to me! She has told this one of her plans. You are no longer the favorite." Z'nder's tone was filled with jealousy and triumph. "Z'nder has been reassigned. This one is with the Falkreath cell now. This one cannot kill you yet, the Nightmother says you must finish your contract. But after… after mother says this one may do with you as this one wishes. But what shall Z'nder do with you?" As he asked the question he pressed the blade even harder against her skin. The sharp edge bit into her flesh, slicing a thin line across her throat allowing the smallest drops of blood to spill onto his assassin's blade. It greedily drank her blood.

"Silly kitten," Riandr had quietly removed Silence as he babbled placing it against the Khajiit's upper thigh, as she spoke she dug the blade into his groin, drawing blood. His gasp of pain made her smile. "Never let your mark know you are coming." She could feel his muscles tightening; her attack against his manhood driving him to ignore his orders and slice her throat. In one swift motion she drove Silence deeper, while simultaneously slamming her head backwards, against his. The attack surprised him and disoriented, he loosened his hold on the knife against her throat. She twisted in his arms to face him and then shoved him backward, distancing him from her. She could kill him now, it would be easy! Leap at him and drive her blades into the soft flesh of his heart! But she hesitated. If he truly were reassigned, if he was now with the Falkreath cell, then she might not be forced to kill him. Besides, from what he said there was a strong possibility that the Nightmother no longer valued her. That she had gone from assassin to mark! If that were true then she was no longer under any obligation to finish either contract, the boy's or the destruction of her cell. She hesitated, for the first time uncertain where the road before her might lead.

"You will die, Riandr! By this one's blade I swear!" Z'nder, wounded and bleeding, began to back into the shadows, his voice diminishing as he went. "In the dark, in the silence, Z'nder will come for you. You will die with this one's name on your lips."

Riandr stood motionless. There were so many thoughts racing through her mind. The Nightmother, the boy, Z'nder, choices. Choices to be made. Her choices. Her right to make choices.

Then suddenly Fil was by her side, his hands glowing with fire. "Are you all right?"

Riandr managed to nod, still incapable of speaking.

"Shall I go after him, boss? Cut his head clean off his body?" Myllian peered into the dark, anxiously twirling Dragon's Doom.

Riandr shook her head, and tried to speak, all she could manage was a cough. Fil glanced at her throat. "Good gods, sis, you're bleeding? Did he cut you? He did, he cut you! Oh yes, now the cat dies!" Fil started forward, his fury palpable, but she reached out and grabbed his arm, restraining him.

"Let him go." She couldn't explain why she felt it was important, but she had this curious need to let the Khajiit live.

Fil growled at the darkness and then turned to her. "Well, stand still then." Fil placed his hand against her throat and murmured the spell of healing. His hand glowed warm and golden. Riandr sighed as the spell did its work, stitching her skin back together, erasing the sharp pain.

"Thank you, brother." She kissed him on the cheek.

"Will you tell us what that was all about?" Drenn asked angrily, keeping his insane desire to flay the Khajiit to himself.

Riandr nodded. "The most important thing is our client wants us to meet him at Vol'vahlok, immediately."

"Vol'vahlok? That's quite a ways."

"I know. However before we set out there are other… issues, we need to discuss."

Myllian, Fil and Drenn glanced at each other, her tone was uncertain, distracted. It was so different from the Riandr they knew that they had no reply.

"In any case do you mind if we have this conversation at the Inn? I have a terrible thirst." She tried to smile reassuringly at them.

"Of course!"

"You got it, boss!"

They continued down the road toward the village. Myllian and Drenn, certain that Riandr did not want them to focus on her, kept up a steady conversation about the qualities of the local mead. Fil however kept his focus on his sister. He wasn't worried about her, not in the traditional sense. If he had to name what he felt he would have to say he was, intrigued. Her step was certain, her posture confident. She let a smile play with her lips as she listened to the others discuss the finer qualities of Black Briar mead. In fact her entire demeanor reminded him of their youth. She seemed to him almost, carefree.

Turning to him she caught his worried expression and with a grin punched him in the arm. "Stop it, silly boy, or your brain will explode."

Fil had a vivid flashback of their home on the outskirts of Riften. Their mother and father talking softly at the breakfast table, Riandr trying to pull his head out of his book and join them for a meal. Gods that was a lifetime ago! He smiled at her, the memory of that moment in his eyes. "I love you, Ri."

Riandr grinned and wrapped her arm around his. "I love you too, little brother. Now let's hurry. I have a tremendous thirst and all these two keep talking about is mead!"

The guards glared at them as they entered town, their laughter loud enough to wake the dead, which in Falkreath was a chilling thought.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

Though it was quite early in the morning the inn still held a few lingering patrons. Thadgeir was telling a rather ribald story to Narri while Dengeir had fallen asleep at a table, his face just missing a bowl of stew. Riandr headed straight for the bar, desperate for something cold to drink.

"By the gods, woman, you look a mess." Valga teased before handing her a cold pint. "Was it worth it?"

Riandr nodded. "Oh yes. Plus there is one less necromancer cowering in your hills."

"Well done then, I say! Hungry?"

"Oh gods yes. We still have your rations from earlier though. We can grab a table and eat those."

"You will not!" Valga sounded affronted. "You just made our roads and thus our commerce a little safer and more profitable. Faced a necromancer and his minions? He had minions right? They always have minions."

"Oh yes," Fil nodded, sipping his pint, "minions galore!"

"Right!" Valga nodded. "Fresh pints and fresh stew coming up. It's the least I can do." She turned to the Dark Elf, a welcoming smile lighting up her eyes. "Drenn, the stew's from that venison you brought me the other day. Excellent quality. Tried a new recipe. I hope you like it."

"I look forward to it." Drenn smiled at her and as he turned away, he could have sworn she winked at him. He followed the others to a table, wondering if he had imagined it.

"Hello, Drenn!" Fil leaned toward his friend and whispered conspiratorially as they took their seats. "Looks like you've made a conquest."

"I've… what? What have I done?"

"Valga. Seems as if she likes you." Fil glanced at him, curious. "Didn't you see her look at you? The way she smiled?" Drenn stared at him, his expression blank. "You really didn't see it?"

Drenn shook his head, his expression mirroring his concern for Fil's sanity. Fil had to be mad. Women weren't attracted to him! Especially not human women and a Redguard at that!

"Listen, my friend. If there is one thing in life I understand… its women. And that woman is very definitely attracted to you. I would stake my gold on it."

Drenn watched Valga as she poured their pints. She glanced at him twice, her smile warm and inviting. Drenn turned his attention back to the table, suddenly nervous. He had rarely experienced the attentions of a woman. The other races mostly despised the Dark Elves and the Dunmer women were convinced of their own superiority. In addition he had spent the last several decades living in the forests and wilds of Skyrim. Truth be told, engaging a female's interest, in particular a human female's interest, was a skill he had never quite developed. He turned to the only source of help he had at hand. "Fil… what should I do?"

Fil bit back the vulgar reply that had sprung to his lips and instead asked, "How old are you?"

"Three hundred and twelve."

Fil paused a moment, digesting this bit of information. "All right and in all this time you've never, you know… had a relationship?"

Drenn thought back to his boyhood. There had been girls then, mostly simple friendships; perhaps a few were closer than that. But when it had become evident that he had been born devoid of innate magic ability, most of the families forbade their daughters from associating with him. It had destroyed his mother and embarrassed his family. All he could do at the time was throw himself into his archery. In Skyrim there had been… ladies. Mercenaries he came across on the road or women who traveled the wilds, hunters. However none had been like Valga. She was human yes, but from Cyrodiil. Educated, cultivated, interesting!

"I will take your silence as a 'no'…" Fil continued impatiently. "Here's what you do. You smile at her, compliment her hair or dress or cooking, anything! Then ask her if she would like to take a walk sometime."

Drenn looked doubtful. "That is all?" From what he could remember courting a Dunmer woman was considerably more complicated.

Fil nodded. "It's really very simple. The hardest thing to do is to get a woman to notice you're alive! Once they see you and are interested in you, the rest is as easy as casting a fireball."

Drenn glared at him.

"Oh sorry. Forgot. Well you get my point." Embarrassed, Fil turned toward his sister. "So, are we off to Vol'vahlok then?"

Riandr sighed. "Well, we have a few decisions to make but yes, I think so."

"That's north of Markarth isn't it?"

"Yes, near Ragnvold I believe."

Fil groaned. "By the gods that's a ways away. Any chance we're going to purchase horses?"

"Purchase?" Riandr raised an eyebrow.

"Purchase, steal," Fil grinned and mumbled, "Simple semantics."

Valga arrived with four bowls of hot stew. She placed the bowls on the table, adding a hunk of bread to each. Drenn's loaf was exceptionally large. "I hope you like it. The stew that is. The bread's the one you like, with the extra bits of grain in it."

Fil smiled at his friend, raising his eyebrows encouragingly.

Drenn drew up his courage, finding himself more nervous then when he had faced the necromancer. "I… thank you, Valga. I'm sure the stew will be delicious, as your cooking so often is."

Valga giggled softly. "Well thank you, Drenn. That's so sweet of you to say." She smiled, then turned and slowly strolled away. Fil and Drenn found their attention caught and held by the sway of her hips. After Valga turned into the kitchen and out of sight, the two men sighed and returned their attention to the table. No one spoke for a while and as the silence lengthened the men glanced up and were surprised to find Riandr and Myllian staring at them.

Fil grinned sheepishly. "So… how's the stew?"

Riandr continued to stare at him, her expression inscrutable.

Drenn was uncomfortable that so much attention was focused on him, so decided to offer a more compelling topic. "You said we might need to discuss some issues before heading to Vol'vahlok?"

Riandr tore her gaze away from her brother and smiled at Drenn. "Yes. Z'nder was quite informative as he held his blade against my throat."

Fil mumbled something unintelligible into his stew.

"What did he say, boss?" Myllian asked.

"It seems that the Nightmother has offered me up to Z'nder as a mark."

"What?" Fil spat stew across the table.

"Why didn't we kill him when we had the chance?" Myllian growled.

Riandr shrugged. "To be honest I am not entirely certain. However something... something told me to wait. That it was not yet Z'nder's time."

"How can you be a mark and finish your contract with the boy?" Drenn asked, his voice considerably calmer than he felt.

"Exactly!" Riandr leaned forward, her tone intent. "He was under orders to let me finish my contract, before killing me. He almost ignored that order." She felt the slight scar along her throat. "Might have been interesting to see what would have happened to him if he had."

Fil slapped his palm on his forehead. "You'd be dead, sis. What would it matter?"

Riandr shrugged. "Well yes. That's true." She took a sip of her mead, relishing its cold honeyed sweetness. "In any case what this gives us is options. Choices."

"Choices?" Myllian looked confused. "How?"

"I was under orders to assist the boy. Ensure he succeeded in his quest for these shards. However if what Z'nder said is true and the Nightmother has already given him the contract for my life, well… I hardly feel compelled to finish my contract with the boy."

"So we can stay? Ignore the boy? Leave him to rot at Vol'vahlok?" Myllian grew excited. "We could head to Solitude! Visit my parents! Maybe find a job there. There's got to be a noble or two looking for a talented band like us!"

Fil grinned at Myllian. "I would like to meet the woman who raised you. She must be truly remarkable."

Myllian started to return his smile and then hesitated, uncertain if he were mocking her.

"Unless…" Drenn said softly.

Riandr focused her attention on her stew. She knew what he was going to say, knew that it was a decision she had already made for herself, she simply didn't have the heart to make it for the others.

"Unless what?" Fil asked.

"Unless we continue on, help the boy."

"What? Why?" Myllian slammed her fist on the table for emphasis. "Why in the name of Talos would we want to help that… _thing_. We all agree we don't know what he's up to but we do know that it will not be good for Skyrim or Tamriel. Give me one good reason why we should help him!"

"To stop him," Riandr said softly, her eyes filled with worry. "We know we have already helped him obtain two of the pieces he needs. Whatever they form, whatever they build, we know it will be dangerous. It may have devastating consequences for our world."

Myllian leaned back in her chair, shaking her head in frustration. That boy… that _thing_ was evil. There was no way around that fact. She could sense it in him the moment he had arrived at the campfire. It was why she had stayed so close to Riandr, why she followed her orders, not his. The boy could not be allowed to find all the shards, to build whatever dark and horrific thing it built. She knew what they had to do, but for a moment, one sweet moment, she had been back in her mother's kitchen the smell of warm bread in the oven, her little brother begging with her to play with him. "I know," her voice held sadness and conviction. "We can't let him do it. We can't let him find them all."

"No," Riandr whispered. "We cannot."

There was silence at the table for a moment, each of them wrestling with their exhaustion and their fears. Fil was the first to speak. "Well, if we're heading off for Vol'vahlok in the morning, I for one will need some sleep." He stood and strode over to the kitchen door, leaning his head into the room, chatting with Valga.

"Me too," Riandr groaned and stretched, feeling the events of the day suddenly fall on her like a pile of rocks.

Myllian stood, downing the last of her pint before heading for her room. "Good night. Sleep well."

Riandr placed a hand on Drenn's back as she passed him. "Night," she murmured and then made her way to her room.

Drenn sat a moment longer, worrying about the dawn. From what he had been told the boy was quite possibly a demi-god of sorts. His people had a history with demi-gods. It typically did not end well for mortals, even the Elven variety. His thoughts turned to the shards and their possible function. From Fil's description of them and how the boy had used them to escape Xarthias, he had developed a theory as to their use; though he was loathe to give it credence. Still, it might be worth mentioning to Riandr, before they reached Vol'vahlok.

"You have a wonderful night, Drenn!" Fil called out as he headed up the stairs to his room.

Drenn grabbed his pint and finished the last of his drink. The day had started quite early and been filled with action. Sleep was something he desperately sought. A light touch on his shoulder made him jump.

"What's this? An Elf caught off his guard?" Drenn turned to find Valga smiling at him.

"I was deep in thought," Drenn returned her grin. "I'm not usually so distracted."

"I see." Valga ran her fingers down his arm and taking his hand in hers, pulled him from his seat. "Let's see if I can distract you even further."

"What? I don't…," was she suggesting what he thought she was? He let her lead him for a moment and as they passed the kitchen, heading for the stairs to the basement and her chambers he knew with a certainty that she meant exactly what he thought she meant. He hesitated for a moment, not wanting to offend someone who was so close to Riandr.

"I'm not certain…" Drenn mumbled, searching for a compelling reason to resist Valga

.

"That's all right," Valga purred reassuringly. "You see, I am very, very certain." Her smile was like liquid fire on his skin.

Drenn couldn't help the grin that covered his face as a single thought filled his mind, 'I believe I will not be getting much sleep tonight.'

The morning dawned cold but clear. Riandr had packed her belongings and visited the blacksmith one last time. Lod had been a great help to her and she realized as she bade him goodbye that she would miss the man. Myllian had accompanied her so they could finish fitting her armor. While Riandr finished that, Lod had pounded out the dent in the glass helmet, repairing it so well Riandr declared she would never have known it had been damaged. She spent a few extra minutes with him, discussing ideas for a dragon bone helmet. He promised that if he were to come across anymore of the material he would try to send word to her so they could complete Myllian's set. After all her armor would not be complete without helmet, boots and gloves. Myllian's eyes had glossed over at the thought.

Drenn had taken a moment to meet with his students, filling their heads with a few last minute lessons and giving a gift to each of his three star pupils. Drenn had commissioned Lod to make three Elven bows. Riandr had worked on the bows with him, having supped the Blacksmith's Elixir that Zaria had crafted. It had an instant and brilliant affect on her abilities. The bows were so beautifully crafted that Riandr had offered to add an enchantment to each. They had found an abundance of soul gems in the Cairn so she was certain Fil would not miss three. Having experienced such a dramatic affect with the Blacksmith's Elixir she had been eager to try the Enchanter's. The result was again amazing. It felt as if she understood, for the first time, how one might couple two enchantments; bring both powers to bear on a weapon. Though she did not have the knowledge necessary to perform a double enchantment, the bow's powers were strengthened by the potion. She enchanted one with fire, one ice and one lightening.

Alinnia, Thorgeir and Raihn had been beside themselves with joy. They had begged Drenn to return to Falkreath, to visit them again as soon as he was able. Considering his evening, Drenn had agreed he was quite eager to return.

They left town through the western gate, planning on following the road west and then north, knowing it would take them close to a week, barring battles with bandits, rogue mages or dragons, to reach Vol'vahlok. Zaria and Valga stood on the porch of the Inn, waving to them until they were out of sight.

"Did anyone else notice the similarity in those two?" Myllian asked.

"What do you mean?" Fil feigned innocence.

"How they… look?" Myllian prodded again.

Drenn and Fil exchanged grins. "I'm not sure I follow you."

Myllian grunted. "They're both Redguards, you fools!"

Fil laughed at her frustration. "Were they? I hadn't noticed."

"I just thought I'd mention that. We're a passionate people, Redguards."

"But, My, I thought you were a Nord?" Fil teased.

"I am!" the warrior proclaimed vehemently. "But I'm also a Redguard and proud of it."

"And so you should be, My. Two very proud, very noble races." Riandr punched her brother in the shoulder. "My brother is an idiot."

Fil grimaced, rubbing his shoulder. "Thank you, sister."

"The pleasure was all mine, idiot," Riandr laughed.

Fil was attempting to form a scathing reply when a large mangy dog came rushing up to them, jumping up on Riandr.

"Hey, down boy!" She pushed the dog off of her.

"You are exactly what I was looking for!" the dog cried out.

Riandr stared at the mutt, dumbfounded. "Did you just… talk?"

"Yeah," the dog replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Skyrim is now host to giant flying lizards and two legged cat men and you're surprised by me? Yeah, I just talked and I'm continuing to do so. You see my name is Barbas and I have a problem I think you can help sort out."

Riandr continued to stare, trying hard to wrap her brain around a talking dog. Fil, Myllian and Drenn simply stared at the mutt, grateful it seemed to be unaware of their existence. "So…what… uhm… could a dog need help with?'

"My master and I had a bit of a falling out. We got into an argument and it got rather… heated. He's kicked me out until I can find someone who can settle our disagreement. That's where you come in."

"So you're a little lost puppy?" she asked, trying to make light of a disturbing conversation.

"Yeah, very funny. My master is Clavicus Vile, Daedric prince of wishes. As you can imagine he's quite the important person."

Riandr grew still, fully aware of who Clavicus Vile was and how quickly the manipulative Daedric prince could trip you up and take possession of your soul. The presence of a Daedric prince certainly explained the talking dog. However as curious as she might be about the mutt, she had no interest in becoming embroiled in anything involving a prince of Oblivion. Most of the Daedric lords were notorious for their disregard of Mankind's welfare; some were bent on erasing humans from Nirn all together! Clavicus Vile and his ilk certainly held little regard for either Mankind or the welfare of their champions. She chose her words carefully. "I… have things to do."

"I know, I know! Wars to fight, dragons to confront, guild business to conduct. Sheesh! Listen when you're ready to do something useful find me outside Haemar's Shame in Falkreath." With that the dog raced off, wagging his tail and chasing a rabbit.

They stood silent for a moment, watching the dog's diminishing form. Riandr let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She had the distinct impression they just dodged a flaming arrow.

"You don't think that's the… dog, Lod was looking for, do you?" Fil murmured.

Riandr's eyes grew wide with surprise. She had forgotten all about her friend's request. "Oh, brother, I think you may be right!" She stared at the now empty road, her fear for Lod tangible. "Lod is a simple blacksmith. I don't think we should mention that… dog, to him."

"Agreed," the others replied.

The rest of the day was uneventful. They traveled on, passing by the landmarks and ruins they had investigated barely a week or so before. Myllian took great care to point out to Drenn the spot where he shot the troll, and bought himself a large basket of trouble, joining up with them. Drenn had simply shrugged, stating plainly that he was quite happy with where that action had taken him.

It was near dark when they approached the cabin they had taken the hunter Valdr to. The hunters using the cabin were more than eager to share their shelter with those that had saved one of their own. They spent the night swapping stories with them, enjoying a sturdy if small roof over their heads.

The next morning, after a large breakfast prepared by Valdr's friends, they continued on, working their way toward the main road that would lead them west to Vol'vahlok. They passed the cave where they had found Valdr and the conversation turned again to how close they had become to the residents of Falkreath. Zaria, Valga, Thadgeir, Thorgeir, Alinnia, even Raihn. Valdr's daughter had given Drenn a gift at their last meeting, a tiny carving of the god Talos. She had told him that though she knew Talos was both banned and probably not a god that Drenn himself might worship, that she had carved it for him because she believed in Talos. She believed that after his fight with the dragon, Talos would guide him and protect him. He had taken the gift with pleasure, knowing how much it meant to her.

It was near dark when they reached the large stone road from Whiterun. Fil suggested they head east, make it to the city and soft beds for the night. But Riandr was unwilling to backtrack so many miles and be forced to retrace their steps in the morning. Instead she had them continue west until they came to a fork in the road. A sign post, its aged wood, gray and splintered, was surrounded by butterflies of yellow and blue and glowed in the dying sunlight. Boards engraved with the names of each hold circled the post, offering directions to every major city in Skyrim. Myllian stared longingly at the wooden plank labeled 'Solitude'.

Riandr laid her hand upon her friend's shoulder. "You homesick, My?"

The warrior stared at the sign a moment longer, and then sighed. "Yes. I know it's probably not right for a warrior to miss her family," she glanced north, toward Solitude and home, "but I do," she whispered to the dying light.

Riandr tried to pat her on the back, the dragon armor making any gesture of affection difficult. "Let's follow the road toward Markarth a while longer. See if we can't find some shelter."

They hadn't traveled far when they came across the corpse of a Khajiit peddler. He and his horse lay slightly off the path, his cart and belongings littering the road. They stood in silence for a moment, the tragic waste of life sobering.

"By the gods I hate bandits," Myllian growled. Fil checked the peddler's pockets, finding little of value remaining but a book and the clothes the peddler wore.

"Whoever they were, they were thorough," Fil muttered.

"Or the poor man did not have much to offer in the first place," Drenn added.

Riandr wandered off the road, looking for and finding a rocky outcropping. She called the others to her, pointing out how from here they had a complete view of the road and the landscape surrounding them. They were almost inaccessible and could light a small fire for warmth. The others agreed it would suit their needs perfectly.

"When those bandits return, they're mine," Myllian declared.

"When, My?" Fil asked.

She nodded and growled, "They'll be back. They probably patrol this road, robbing and killing anyone they encounter who is weaker than they are. I intend to show them what it's like to die slowly, cut into a thousand pieces."

No one argued with the warrior, more than willing to let her punish the bandits who had killed the poor peddler. Drenn quickly built a fire and they settled in, splitting bread and dried meat, sipping from the wine skin Valga had so thoughtfully provided.

"You know it's just there." Fil pointed into the growing dark, down the road they had traveled.

"What is, brother?"

"The dragon mound we passed a week ago. It's barely a half league away! I know you saw it. It looked the same as it always has, true, but what if the beast should come alive in the middle of the night?" Fil grumbled.

Riandr laughed. "If it does I hardly think it will bother with us here, or hang around where it was buried. I'm sure it will fly off to a mountain top."

"Or try to harass a city, say Whiterun?" Myllian teased.

Fil rolled his eyes. "Not helping. Hulda has most of my money and my odds and ends. I would rather the city not be ransacked, thank you."

"What odds and ends does she have?"

Fil thought about it for a moment. "Well, those staffs I took off the dead priests, their masks, a few random potions, some gems and a strange pair of…"

"Masks?" Riandr interrupted him.

Fil nodded. The sun had finally set and the fire was the only light source they now had. Fil's face glowed warm in its light. "Took them off the priests at Xarthias. Didn't I tell you?"

Riandr shook her head. "No, you did not. What are they for? What do they do?"

Fil shrugged. "I have no idea. Never had a chance to try them out."

"Why did you leave them with Hulda?" Myllian asked while biting into a hunk of dried deer meat.

"She often keeps my things for me until I can find a buyer or I'm planning a return trip to Riften or Winterhold. She holds my gold for me as well, until I need it that is. A lot of the Innkeepers do. I find they are for the most part trustworthy, as long as I give them ten percent when I sell the stuff."

"Why didn't you just sell them in Whiterun?"

"Because, My, I'm certainly not able to calculate or charge an items full value if I have absolutely no idea what it does."

Myllian nodded, that made sense. She grinned for a moment, Fil's comments reminding her of her mother. She had the sense not to make the comparison out loud.

"What of the masks? Why were they wearing masks?" Riandr mused.

Again Fil shrugged. "I don't know. However those masks hummed with magic."

"Hummed?"

Fil nodded. "Hummed. Very powerful artifacts. Which is interesting considering the boy showed no interest in them."

They pondered this fact silently for a moment. Drenn offered, "Perhaps he didn't recognize their power?"

Fil shook his head. "Doubtful. I think that boy can recognize magic or power in any form."

"I agree," Riandr murmured. "We will have to add that to his list of abilities."

"List of abilities?" Drenn asked.

"That's right," Fil turned to Drenn, "you weren't on the watchtower with us."

"No. I wasn't lucky enough to join you until the next day," Drenn laughed.

Obligingly Fil counted off the list of powers they had already decided the boy possessed, their concern over his possible immortality, and added their questions about his connection to the dragons.

"We can't forget the arrival of the Dragonborn in this mess." Riandr said.

"I still don't know about that, sis. I don't have the impression she works for him. It seems to me, if any of these stories about her are true, she's a decent enough person."

"She saved Whiterun," Myllian reminded them.

"And killed that werewolf," Drenn added.

Riandr nodded. "Yes. But does he fear her or the dragons themselves?"

There was silence again as they pondered this. It was Drenn who spoke first, his tone tentative. "I have been giving this a great deal of thought and I keep asking myself… what if he doesn't fear all dragons? What if he only fears one? Alduin, World Eater."

Fil snorted. "Please Drenn, a dragon who can eat the world? That's just Nordic nonsense."

Drenn sighed, the shortsightedness of the mortal races never ceased to amaze him. "Fil, choosing not to believe the legends does not make them less true. The story of Alduin, first born of Akatosh is a legend older than time. It is not an Elven belief but that is hardly essential to its veracity. There are many legends in other cultures that our Elven history denies. However in the light of day, they prove true."

"Like Talos!" Myllian said vehemently.

Drenn offered her a slight nod, choosing not to condemn her for her worship of a false god. "Like Talos. In any case, what if the boy isn't so much afraid of all dragons, but solely concerned with the arrival of Alduin? What if the coming of the World Eater suggests the end of the world to the boy? What if the boy does not wish for the world to end?"

"Why wouldn't he be helping the Dragonborn then?" Riandr mused.

Drenn nodded excitedly. "Exactly! So his will is not bent on destroying Alduin, and yet he races against the arrival of the World Eater." Drenn leaned in closer to the fire, his tone passionate and intense. "What if he simply wishes to avoid being on the world, when it ends?"

They stared at him for a moment, Fil wondered if his friend had lost his mind.

"You mean… escape? From Tamriel? From Nirn itself?" Riandr asked, incredulous.

Drenn nodded. "What if he is building himself a portal, a doorway?"

"To where?"

Drenn stared into the flames, hesitant to offer up his theory. It was based on a myth his grandfather had told him; a nightmarish tale of Dwemer arrogance that he had scoffed at. But what if his grandfather had been right?

"Drenn?" Riandr asked again his reluctance intensifying her anxiety, "To where?"

"Oblivion," Drenn replied.

They glanced at each other, their disbelief plain. "But I can open a doorway to Oblivion, Drenn," Fil scoffed. "It's not impossible. Mage's do it all the time."

"You open a temporary portal, Fil. A moment in time when both planes connect and you can call upon the denizens of Oblivion, but the portal quickly shuts and you and they are cut off. What I am suggesting is a doorway that is always open, allowing anyone in Tamriel to cross through to Oblivion and…"

"And anyone or anything in Oblivion to cross over into Tamriel," Riandr finished, a sick feeling in her stomach.

With great reluctance Drenn agreed.

"But that would be another Oblivion Crisis! Nirn only barely survived the last one!" Fil whispered.

"On top of civil war and the arrival of Alduin?" Myllian added in a monotone, too overwhelmed by Drenn's suggestion to feel fear. "Skyrim, by the gods none of Tamriel could survive that."

"And you believe this is possible, that these shards could build this doorway?" Riandr stared at Drenn, wishing she did not believe with all her heart that what he suggested was true.

Again Drenn nodded. "It's the only theory I have come up with that makes sense to me."

"But why? Why Oblivion?" Fil asked. "Not exactly the most hospitable place to visit, is it?"

Drenn shrugged. "Perhaps only because it will exist, should Nirn fall. Alduin cannot touch the land of the Daedra, only the land of mortals."

"Well," Riandr stared at the fire, "now we know how important it is to stop him."

"Ri, how can we kill him if he's immortal?"

Riandr paused, it was a good question. "I imagine we can't. But… we don't have to kill him to stop him."

"No!" Drenn's excitement made his voice louder than he intended. "We don't have to kill him; we simply have to stop him from completing the doorway."

"And he will need all the shards to do that!" Fil offered. "So we steal a shard and then what… run?"

They were silent again, pondering that. "We could give it to someone powerful, someone who could protect it." Myllian suggested.

"Hmmm, most of the powerful men I know are so because they crave it and thus are easily corrupted." Fil sighed. There wasn't a mage he knew, even the Arch Mage, whom he would trust with something so important.

"We could bury it. Or destroy it?"

Riandr shook her head. "I imagine they are not easily destroyed or if it is even possible to destroy them."

"Burying then?" Myllian asked hopefully.

"Possibly. But he has been able to track down the pieces now and they are 'buried' in a fashion."

Again there was silence until Myllian offered tentatively, "What about the sea?" They turned to her, curious.

"What do you mean?"

"A burial of sorts. At sea. We could take a ship out onto the Eltheric Ocean or the Sea of Ghosts as far as we dare sail and then drop it. Let it sink to the bottom of the sea. Lay there in the depths with the ghosts of sailors. Let the dead protect it."

"Myllian," Fil once again stared at her, his expression one of absolute adoration. "That's brilliant!"

Myllian grinned. "I just got to thinking about home and death. I remembered my grandfather's burial at sea. That's all."

Fil sat up and leaning toward the warrior took her hand in his and kissed her palm. "You are truly amazing, My."

Riandr glanced at Drenn, her expression hopeful. "It might work. We know he is capable of finding the shards on land, but at sea? Under leagues of water? There are no spells to let a man travel that far and live, are there, brother?"

Fil shook his head, his gaze never leaving Myllian's face. "No. Even potions of water breathing have time constraints. Also the deeper you go underwater the more the water weighs on you; even if you could breathe eventually you would be crushed by the weight of it."

"So even if he is immortal and could survive a long period of time without air, he would still be crushed by the weight of the water?" Myllian asked.

Fil nodded. "Besides, so far as we know he has been unable to retrieve a shard on his own. I highly doubt he could rescue one from the depths of the sea without assistance."

There was another moment of silence as they digested this. "Well, that's it then." Riandr spoke softly and then found she couldn't help but grin. "We have a plan. Meet with the boy, steal a shard and drop it to the bottom of the sea."

"Seems simple enough," Drenn added with a chuckle and as the weight of what they needed to do overwhelmed them, they joined him, their laughter echoing off the cliffs surrounding them.


	20. Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

It was still dark when Riandr opened her eyes. She listened to the world for a moment, hearing the quiet cacophony of frogs, morning birds and insects. Fil's quiet breathing and Myllian's not so quiet snoring also filled the air. Holding her breath for a fraction of a second she sensed Drenn's presence, to her right, near the path leading down from their rocky camp. His breathing was calm, unhurried and she was glad to know all was well.

Opening her eyes she glanced in his direction, impressed that she could not see his form in the slowly diminishing darkness. She couldn't keep the grin from her face as she sat up.

"Pleasant dream?" Drenn asked softly from the shadows.

"No. Well, not that I remember," she answered. "I was just thinking you are learning quickly. You are a natural shadowwalker." Though she couldn't see him in the darkness, she knew him and knew he was grinning at the compliment. Standing and allowing herself a small stretch she joined him by the cliff side. "Uneventful night?"

Drenn nodded. "For my shift it was. Nothing to report, barely a fox to be found. Except," he pointed to three square lights that flickered high in the air quite a distance from them. "Castle?"

"Fort. Fort Sungard I believe," Riandr said. "I have no idea who's encamped there now. Could be Imperials, could be bandits." She glanced at Myllian. "She's as bad as Fil, she will want to storm the fort if its bandits."

Drenn laughed softly, agreeing. "I don't blame her. Have an inclining to crush some bandits myself."

Riandr raised an eyebrow. "You, Drenn?"

He shrugged. "I will never understand murder." When Riandr shifted uncomfortably he quickly added, "Pointless murder. Why kill the peddler? I am fairly certain he offered no resistance. Why kill him? And his horse, why kill his horse?"

Riandr stared at the distant lights, trying to understand the difference herself. "I have struggled with it all my life. You know what I am Drenn, who I have worked for. I was not always an assassin you know." She glanced at him, grinning. "I was a thief! So much more respectable." He laughed. "However…" she paused, knowing that she had to explain herself to him, had to help him understand who she was. Then, with all the facts before him, he could judge her.

"After our parents were murdered, well… Fil was, not ready, not able to fend for himself. So, I did. I packed what I could and then we left the farm quick enough. I knew what would happen if they found us there, two children not yet ten years of age. It would have been off to the orphanage for us. I had heard stories of the Riften orphanage. My parents had often spoken of adopting a child from there, as soon as the farm was profitable enough. The horror stories they told of that place! I would never have allowed Fil to be placed there. It would have killed him. So I took him into the wilds. We went deep into the Riften forests; I learned to set traps, snares. I learned to sense danger, both animal and human. I learned to hide in the shadows. I learned to kill before I was killed." She paused for a moment, glancing at Drenn suddenly nervous that he would think her a monster.

His expression was not what she expected. His ruby eyes held great warmth as he said, "Go on…"

"I fed him, kept him warm, kept him safe," she continued. "But it soon became apparent that the wilds were not the best place for him. He has always been a scholar, my brother." She glanced at his sleeping form, her face alight with pride. "My parents were forever teasing him, telling him to put down his book and go outside and play. 'You're missing the best part of your childhood boy!' they would admonish him. He didn't care. He used to tease me that he was the brain and I the body. That I spent more than enough time outside for both of us. That if he didn't do all the studying, who would?" Riandr laughed softly. "He was right of course, I hated books. All dry words, no life in them. I had to be outside, working in the fields, playing by the lake. It didn't matter. I needed to move, to dance in sunlight. But all that changed when my parents were killed…" her voice drifted off.

"What happened when you realized Fil couldn't stay in the forest?" Drenn prodded gently.

"Oh…" the image of her parents, lying on the kitchen floor in a pool of blood vivid in her mind. She pushed the image away, focusing on Drenn's question instead. "I knew he couldn't manage in the forest forever. He had already read the tomes we had a hundred times. I had begun branching out of the forest myself. I would silently visit passing caravans in the night, nicking a book here, some food there. Nothing they would miss and thus warn the guards." She leaned in toward Drenn, her pride evident. "I even broke into Maven Black-Briar's hunting lodge. Past her hired guard, past her son and right into her bedroom." She curled her nose as she said, "Wasn't much there mind you. But the thrill! I cannot describe to you the thrill of it."

"What happened?" Drenn asked, captivated by her story.

"She found me. In her bedroom, standing by her bookcase, three volumes in hand."

"By the gods!" Drenn's heart stopped for a moment. Not only was Maven Black-Briar known for owning the most successful brewery in Tamriel, she was also notorious for being a patron to both the Thieves Guild and the Dark Brotherhood. Her lack of empathy for anyone who stood in her way was legendary. Drenn could not imagine what her response was to finding Riandr in her bedroom, stealing from her.

"I think it was the books that saved me," Riandr mused. "I think she expected me to have some jewelry or trinkets on me. But I hadn't come for that. I had gone there for Fil. To find him something new to read."

"What did she do?" Drenn held his breath.

Riandr laughed. "She offered me a job."

"A job?"

Riandr nodded. "Said anyone who could get past her guards was worthy of employment. She also said she'd rather have me working for her, than against her. It wasn't a real job mind you. Not sweeping floors or cooking. She wanted a pair of eyes in Riften. One not connected to the Thieves Guild. Who could see for her, listen for her and then report to her. Didn't pay much, but I needed to live in Riften proper if I took it. It only took me a second to decide to do it. Fil needed more and I couldn't give it to him in the wilds."

"So you moved to Riften."

Riandr nodded. "To the Ratway."

"The Ratway? The rat infested canals that run under the city of Riften? By the gods… what was that like?"

Riandr sighed. "We had our own room. Dark, damp and yes, rat infested. But it was our own. Fil started practicing his magic there. And once he realized what it was I was doing, spying, he decided he wanted to help. So Maven got two spies for the price of one." Riandr grinned. "He was good too. I was better at the shadow, hiding from sight. Fil was more direct. He learned to charm women so much that not only would they let him listen to their conversations, they would feed him while he did so!"

Drenn couldn't help the bark of laughter than escaped him. "By the gods that explains a lot!"

Riandr smiled for a moment and then it slowly faded. "It was there, in the Ratway, that I first learned to kill men."

Drenn was instantly quiet.

"He was a thief. I think he might also have been insane, or high on Skooma. He came upon Fil and me in the tunnels one night. He held a knife, threatened Fil with it, lunged at him, swearing and demanding gold. As if two children living in the Ratway had gold," Riandr growled. "When he lunged at Fil… I am not certain what happen, something inside of me… snapped. Without a thought I grabbed his wrist, twisted the knife from his grasp and…" she paused for a moment, the sight of the man's face burnt into her memory. "Then I leapt onto his back, pulled back his head and slit his throat." She stared into the distance for a moment, seeing nothing but the dead man's face. Then she sighed and continued. "As I said, he was probably on Skooma, a lot of the Ratway occupants were. How else could a twelve year old girl kill an armed man? Fil and I dragged the body to the river and threw it in… watched it slowly drifted out onto the lake."

Drenn knew the lake, had spent a great deal of time hunting and fishing along its shores. The image of the floating corpse, two small children watching in revulsion as it floated away made his heart break.

"He never judged me."

"What?"

"My brother." Riandr glanced again at his sleeping form. "He was… proud of me. Proud of my talent, my skill."

"You saved his life!"

"I know." Her eyes were filled with love as she turned to Drenn. "But he could have judged me. He could have seen me as a monster."

Drenn watched her face as she spoke. He knew without a doubt that though her brother loved her and accepted her without question; it was she who thought herself a monster. He understood why, how living as a member of the Dark Brotherhood might have caused her to do things, things she might now regret. But that was the crux of it wasn't it? She wasn't a careless bandit, killing peddlers for bread. She wasn't a thoughtless killer, if that were so Z'nder would be lying in a pool of his own blood right now. Whatever she had been, whatever she was, she was at the very least someone who had the courage to follow the dictates of her heart and that was something that Drenn could only admire. He tried to find the words to assuage her pain, to help her understand what he was feeling. Frustrated he gripped her arm tighter than he meant to and said passionately, "I have lived over three hundred years and I have met monsters in my time. You are no monster, Riandr."

Her eyes glistened in the growing dawn and then she laughed softly. "Thank you, Drenn, but you hardly know me."

He leaned toward her, his red eyes intent. "But I would like to."

Riandr paused, recognizing the look in his eyes. With a sudden rush she realized that there was an answer in her own. She leaned towards him, her eyes held by his.

He pulled back suddenly, turning toward the road. The clash of steel on steel reached her a moment after. Drenn whispered, a slight note of frustration in his voice, "We should wake Myllian. I think her bandits have arrived."

Riandr grinned. "She'll be so happy."

The rest of them hung back, allowing Myllian to make short work of the bandits. She made a point to announce to them that they could thank the peddler for their deaths before gutting them. Fil looted them for their loose gold while whispering to them that they did not die a good death.

It didn't take long to pack up their things and douse the fire. The morning dawned clear and bright as they made their way along the road. Fort Sungard rose high on the cliff to the north, its stone walls both powerful and intimidating. Myllian of course begged them to inspect the fort, see if bandits occupied it. It took both Riandr and Fil to talk her out of it.

Drenn happily began explaining to Riandr the basics of archery. He found her both a talented and driven student. He spoke of the three types of draw, the position of her fingers and thumb for each. The three standards ways of shooting, demonstrating the snatch and release, the typical Bosmer style, the draw with a short pause before release, a very Khajiit style and the partial draw with a pause then finishing with a final pull and release. He made it clear that mastering all three would take years, but would allow her the chance to choose which style would work best in any given situation.

An opportunity to practice came quickly. They rounded a bend in the road to find a large saber cat lying on a rock in the sun, some distance from them. The cat lay still, completely relaxed in the sun's warmth and had not yet noticed them. They knew when he did; he would do his best to gut them and eat their entrails. Drenn halted Myllian's forward rush, asking Riandr to take the chance to practice her lessons.

Riandr's hands were shaking a little as Myllian handed her her bow. It was a little longer than Drenn would have liked, but otherwise was a good bow to practice on. Riandr notched the arrow gauging the distance between her and the large cat. She tried to account for the wind as well, took aim and released her bolt. It soared through the air, heading straight for the saber cat and landed with a thud in the long grass a good ten feet from the beast.

"Oh dung," Riandr grumbled.

The cat, feeling the ground shudder, jumped from his resting place searching for the reason. It took him only a moment to find them. His growl was loud as he braced his muscles, preparing to charge at them.

"Well?" Drenn prodded. "Are you just going to let him slaughter us or are you going to try to get off another shot?"

Riandr quickly notched another arrow, letting it fly. This one sped over the advancing saber cat's head, bouncing off the stones behind him.

Drenn chuckled. "Very nice first attempt." He notched an arrow, pulled back and released his bolt. It flew true, embedding itself between the beast's eyes, burning into its brain. It dropped dead a few yards from them.

Riandr frowned. "You make it look so easy."

"Ah… the best always do." Drenn grinned.

"You know," Riandr teased him. "I think you've been spending far too much time in the company of my brother!"

"Hey!" Fil laughed. "Don't drag me into this!"

Drenn went to the dead cat and retrieved his arrow. "I meant it though, Riandr. You did very well for your first time."

"Yes… I don't think that patch of grass saw it coming!" Fil laughed.

Riandr glared at him for a moment and then said to Drenn, "I'll grab the others." She raced forward, chasing down her two arrows.

They continued along the road, enjoying the warmth of the day. Fil paused frequently to pick juniper berries and red mountain flowers. He explained their many qualities in great detail to Myllian. She listened intently, finding him a much more enjoyable teacher than Mistress Morrard.

The mountains, rocky and barren to the south, began to fall away from the road as it slowly worked its way out of the valley between the cliffs. A fork in the road offered them a path following the mountain range to their right or a decent into the valley below them. They continued on the higher path, knowing it would lead to Markarth. As the day grew warmer they were glad of the periods of shade the cliff face provided.

Eventually the path began to descend, bringing them closer to the river. It wasn't long before they came across another saber cat lying prone on a large rock that jutted from the road and hung over the path below. Drenn nodded to Riandr who gladly notched the bow again. This time she judged the wind correctly and her arrow struck the cat, hitting his rear left flank. Fil and Myllian whooped in congratulations. However her single bolt was not enough to kill the cat. With a vicious snarl it ignored its pain and leapt to its feet, racing toward them.

Riandr quickly let fly another arrow, hitting the cat on its back, embedding itself in his spine. The beast dropped to the ground no more than a stones throw from them, the additional bolt more than it could cope with. Drenn motioned to her to finish the beast. She notched her arrow, aiming for the space between his eyes. He lay there, unable to move his hind legs. Holding her breath, she let fly the bolt and it cleanly burrowed into his skull, killing him.

Fil and Myllian could not contain their congratulations. "Well done, sis! That was amazing!"

Drenn bowed slightly at the waist. "You, my good lady, are a natural."

Riandr beamed. "That was pretty good, wasn't it?" She moved to the cat, trying to decide if any of the arrows were salvageable. Luckily the first two were in perfect condition. The third was too far embedded into the cat's skull to be of any use.

Fil crouched down next to the cat and removing his dagger from his belt, dug one of the beast's eyes from its skull. At Myllian's grimace he said, "Don't look at me that way. They're very powerful. You'll thank me when I get a chance to craft a potion to restore health."

Myllian gagged. "Probably, but I'm not certain I want to drink it now."

Fil grinned. "If you only knew what went into most of the potions you take for granted."

The warrior blanched. "Please don't tell me."

"Incredible." Drenn stood on the rocky outcropping where the saber cat had lain, staring across the river. There, carved into the mountain range of the Reach, was Lost Valley Redoubt. The structure rose miles into the mountainside, higher even than the mountains themselves. The redoubt was wider than the city of Whiterun. Giant stone birds stood atop the structure rising into the very clouds. Waterfalls tumbled over stone aqueducts, the water streaming over the edge of the stone to fall more than a hundred feet, into the river below. The plunging water created vapor that covered most of the structure in mist and the sound of the waterfalls echoed in the valley like distant thunder. Stone paths that climbed up the mountainside, wound in and out of the mist, then led into the fortress proper.

"It is amazing."

"Beautiful."

"And occupied by the Forsworn," Fil added. "I hate the Forsworn."

Myllian stared at the redoubt. "They are fine warriors, skilled enemies. Besides, they only fight for their freedom. To take back what is rightfully theirs." She turned to him, curious. "Wouldn't you?"

Fil shook his head. "I recognize that the Nords took Skyrim from the Forsworn, centuries ago. And yes, under the same circumstances I'd fight to take back my land. I'd fight warriors, mages and soldiers. I would not kill every innocent that walked past me. I would not kill farmers, merchants, peddlers and children. No, not even to take back what was mine. I would not kill indiscriminately."

Myllian watched his face as he spoke and knew he did not lie. "You are an honorable man, mage."

"Shocked?" Fil asked.

"A bit, yes," Myllian teased.

"Well I for one do not wish to fight an entire fortress of Forsworn." Riandr turned her attention to the road. "Let's move on before they notice us and mistake our fascination for aggression."

They followed the path as it slopped downward, bringing them closer to the river. They had just passed a small overhang, near a point where the divergent path rejoined theirs when they heard it. At first it was a quiet rumble, almost like a cart passing them on the road. But as it grew louder, the ground beneath their feet began to shake. She motioned the others to move under the overhang. They had barely made it beneath when a pack of elk, deer and goats came bounding over the top of their rocky concealment. The beasts leapt to the ground from the ledge, landing on the road to their left and right. A few dropped from the cliff to land directly in front of them. The animals appeared terrified, leaping to their feet and smashing into each other in their panic to escape. Fil quickly erected a wall of energy, keeping the animals from smashing into them. They glanced at each other, at a loss to explain the beast's behavior, when they heard it.

They knew the sound, knew the roar. They could feel the ground beneath their feet tremble as the monster breached the hillside, its mighty wings shaking the ground with every thrust, as it chased the animals. It flew over them as they crouched under the ledge frozen in fear, its focus on the animals. It thrust its wings again, hovering in the air not forty feet from them and then dropped to the rocky ledge they had stood upon not a moment before. The stones beneath their feet shook and they almost lost their balance. Luckily the dragon had its back to them, so they went unnoticed, its focus caught and held by the animals that had run for the river, driven by fear. The beast drew back its enormous head and shot a spray of flame at the animals, roasting them alive.

Riandr stood frozen her body as immovable as a statue, but her mind was racing. What to do? Run? Possibly draw the beast's attention onto them? Stay, hoping it wouldn't see them? She could stay in the shadows, hidden from sight. But what of Myllian? The warrior glittered in the dappled sunlight like a shiny new septim!

The beast drew back its head, preparing another gust of flame, when out of nowhere a glowing blue ice spike flew across the river from the direction of the redoubt, to tear through the dragon's wing, embedding itself in the ground behind him. The dragon let out a roar of pain and anger that caused their hearts to stop beating. Then it pumped its wings, rising into the air and flew across the river to burn alive whatever had attacked it.

Riandr stood motionless for a moment, thanking the gods for their luck. Then her brain screamed for action and grabbing Fil's robe, she dragged him out from under the rock overhang. "Let's go!" she cried, motioning to the others to follow her. They raced down the road, resisting the temptation to glance back at the battle that was underway. They could hear the dragon's bellows; hear the crash of magic and steel. They ran as fast as they could until the sounds of combat and the dragon's roar were lost on the wind. Panting, Fil asked the others to stop so he could catch his breath.

"I… take… it… back," he gasped.

"Take back what?" Myllian stood with her axe drawn, her Redguard stamina undiminished by their run.

"My… comments on the… Forsworn. Right now, I thank the gods they attack everything." Fil tried to laugh.

"It did work in our favor," Riandr agreed with a grin.

"We could have taken it. We did before," Myllian grumbled.

Drenn shook his head. "One day if we are forced to fight one again, perhaps. I think our appointment with the boy is much too important to possibly waste our lives on another battle with a dragon."

"But I was looking forward to boots and gloves," Myllian whined.

When Fil had caught his breath they continued on, keeping their eyes on the path before them and the skies above. The road, running parallel with the river, meandered for a while. At times the river blanketed the path, racing along on either side of them. Fil shot a lightning spell at any mudcrabs who dared to venture near them. It was near nightfall when they reached a fork in the road. They could continue on the stone road toward Markarth or take a path north.

Fil practically begged to go north. "Come on, Ri! It leads to Old Hroldan. I've heard it's a decent enough Inn. We could sleep in beds tonight. We won't get much farther in the dark; besides, do you want to be lighting a fire with dragons about? Seems to me that would be inviting the sort of battle that Drenn here suggested we might want to avoid."

Riandr shook her head and glared at Drenn.

"Sorry," he laughed. "But the mage has a point."

"Fine. Let's head to Hroldan. I could use a pint."

Fil blazed a trail up the path. "You'll like the Inn, My. Good people I'm told. I've also heard the mead is outstanding!"

Riandr couldn't help but smile at her brother's enthusiasm. The path meandered a bit as they worked their way toward the Inn. The sun, slowly dropping behind the mountains to the west, cast long shadows across their path. Riandr could just make out a tower in the distance. Built on a rocky ledge high upon the mountain range, its silhouette was black and bold against the golden sunset. They could hear the sound of an axe on wood as they rounded the corner and were not surprised to find a man sauntering past them his arms laden with a stack of kindling.

"Evening," he said. "You should head on inside. Eydis or Skuli can take care of you."

"Thanks," Fil offered. The Old Hroldan Inn glowed in the setting sun. Nestled in the valley it sat upon the west bank at the base of the Reach's eastern hills. Its thatched roof and weathered boards looked warm and inviting and Riandr suddenly realized she would be glad to have a soft bed for the night. Fil bounded up the three steps to the Inn porch and reached for the door, motioning to his sister and Myllian. "After you, ladies."

They rolled their eyes and entered the Inn. The tavern, like so many other, held a rectangular central firepit filled with a warm blaze. Tables lined the walls of the central chamber and at the far end of the room stood a long bar. Riandr's attention was caught by the young boy who leaned against the bar until Fil touched her arm, gesturing toward a man seated in a chair near them. The man, if you could describe him as such, stared at them, his gaze piercing. The rest of his body however, was transparent, pulsing with a misty blue glow that they were now familiar with.

"A ghost?" Myllian reached for her axe. Riandr stayed her hand, gesturing toward the boy and the woman behind the bar.

"They do not seem concerned." Riandr shrugged. "Perhaps we could ask about him before we dismember him?"

Myllian frowned. "If you say so, boss."

Riandr headed toward the bar, hoping Myllian could not see her grin.

"Ah visitors! Old Hroldan Inn has hundreds of years of history friends." The Innkeeper smiled at them.

Riandr paused in front of the boy. He stood proudly, didn't shrink or shy away. "Hello," she greeted the lad.

"If you drink too much, you're out. No Drunks. Changed the linens myself. They're fresh," he said confidently.

"What's on the menu?" Fil asked.

"Depends. Are you hungry? Thirsty? Would you like some bread and cheese? Maybe some Black-Briar ale?" the boy offered.

Myllian grinned at the boy. "You're awfully mature for your age."

"Watch your tongue, stranger. We don't take back talk in this Inn." The boy glowered at her. Myllian suddenly found her fingers itching for her axe.

Riandr quickly moved on to the Innkeeper. "Sorry. We didn't mean to insult the boy."

The woman shook her head. Blonde and brown eyed, her smile was warm as she welcomed them. "Don't mind Skuli. He is a little over protective of me and the Inn since his pa left."

Drenn nodded. "Well of course. Good lad."

"Name's Eydis. What can I do for you folks? You in need of a meal and a place to rest your heads?"

They nodded. Fil, glancing around the empty room asked, "I hope you have rooms available?"

Eydis laughed. "Yes. Not many want to stay here."

Fil glanced toward the specter, still seated at the back of the room. "Is it the ghost?"

"Yes. I'd heard stories that Old Hroldan was haunted. But no one had seen a ghost here since the Great War. Then he showed up. He's from the battle, I just know it. He's one of Tiber Septim's soldiers, back from the dead." The woman's tone grew anxious as she spoke.

"Well we're in luck then. We'll need a few rooms for the night."

Eydis nodded, then took a deep steadying breath and continued. "Of course, I can even offer you Tiber Septim's room."

"What?" Myllian stuttered. Tiber Septim was the mortal incarnation of Talos! How could he have stayed here, in this tiny, backwater inn? "What do you mean, Tiber Septim's room?"

The Innkeeper, proud and excited, explained. "I mean he stayed here. At the Inn! In the second era Tiber Septim himself led the army that conquered old Hroldan from the barbarians of the reach. Septim would later found the empire that united Tamriel. But his first known battle and victory was right here! And this inn has the very bed the great general slept in on his first night as Old Hroldan's liberator. As good as it was hundreds of years ago."

"By the gods," Myllian whispered, trying to speak but finding her breath caught in her throat.

"You should sleep there, My!" Fil suggested.

Myllian glared at him, her voice rising, growing more agitated as she spoke. "What? Sleep where Talos slept? Sleep in the bed of a god?"

Fil placed a hand on her arm, a light spell of calming on his palm. "But he wasn't a god then. He was a young man. A leader, a warrior, a great general on the night of his first victory, but a young man all the same. There isn't another warrior in Skyrim or I swear in all of Tamriel who could honor him more by laying in the same bed that he had hundreds of years ago. Sleep there knowing you rest your head where Tiber Septim, young warrior lay." Fil watched Myllian struggle for a moment, her reverence for Talos battling the thrill she felt at the thought of sleeping where her god once lay. In the end, her eye's sparkling with exhilaration, she accepted and Fil thought he had never seen a woman look quite as beautiful as Myllian at that moment.

"All right. I'll do it. I'll rent the room. I'll rent the room Talos slept in!" She almost giggled in excitement.

Eydis nodded. "Have a good rest. It's the big room, with the double bed."

Riandr motioned toward the silent specter. "You think he is one of Tiber Septim's men? Why does he stay?"

"I had a guest a while ago. She chatted with him, said he was asking for his sword. What I mean is he's looking for the sword of his friend Hjalti. From what I understand Hjalti had promised the man his sword after the battle. I guess neither of them lived through to make good on the promise."

"Hjalti?" Fil murmured. "Why do I know that name…"

The Innkeeper continued, "I'd never heard of the man so I wasn't much help. I did mention a legend that Tiber Septim had attacked one of the enemy camps before coming to Old Hroldan. I told her it could be there. This Hjalti could have been one of his soldiers as well."

"Hjalti!" Fil cried.

Riandr jumped. "By the gods, Fil, what is the matter?"

"Hjalti! My!" He grabbed the warrior's arm. "Hjalti was Talos' name… _before_ he became Tiber Septim!"

"What are you babbling about, mage?" Myllian tried to pull her arm from his grasp but he held tight.

"It's true! I read it in a volume at the library. A History of the Empire I think…no wait… Arcturian Heresy! That's it! I think… I'm not sure… it doesn't matter. I know it's true! When Tiber Septim was born he was named Hjalti… Hjalti Early-Beard! It wasn't until he began his military career that he changed his name to Talos. Then when he was crowned Emperor he took the name Tiber Septim."

Myllian stared at the mage at first indignant and then as she registered the mage's sincerity, with growing excitement. "Then that sword… might have belonged to Talos?"

Fil nodded.

She turned on the Innkeeper. "Did she go look for it?" Myllian asked her tone desperate, "did she find the sword?"

"I don't know." The woman shrugged. "But I can mark down on a map where I sent her. The battle took place in a redoubt, north of here, filled with Forsworn then. I don't know what inhabits the place now." She glanced at the ghost, her expression sad. "The strange thing is, the spirit keeps asking for Hjalti. I've never heard of General Talos being referred to as Hjalti, but then Tiber Septim had many names. Maybe that was one of them."

Riandr shrugged, she for one didn't care what Talos wanted to call himself. "Well I am starved. I will take that bread and Eidar cheese now if you would. Some ale as well." She took a seat by the fire, stretching out her legs, ignoring the silent ghost.

"Riandr…." Myllian followed her, her face glowing with an intense fervor.

Riandr stared at the flames, knowing full well what Myllian was asking. "No. We do not have the time."

"But, sis…" Fil whined, the market value of a sword that once belonged to Talos making his head spin.

"You two know what is at stake! You know what we have to do. We do not have time to traipse around the countryside looking for this Hjalti's lost sword!" Myllian's crestfallen expression made her wince.

"Not to gang up on you, boss," Drenn said with a grin. "But you haven't taken into consideration one thing."

"Oh," Riandr raised an eyebrow. "And what is that?"

"The boy cannot make a move without us." Drenn sat down next to her. "He is unable to acquire the shards without you. We are the help. He is stuck at the entrance to Vol'vahlok until we arrive."

Riandr sighed, wondering if the Elf had a point. "We are not certain what he has been doing the past weeks. What if he has been gathering shards on his own?"

Drenn shook his head. "Highly unlikely. I see no reason why he would need your help for Xarthias and then no one's help and now he needs you again? That wouldn't make sense. If he has been searching for shards and I think we can all agree he has, I believe he has used others to help him."

"Why not just take us?" Fil asked.

"I am not certain. My guess would be to limit awareness or perhaps expedience." Drenn gazed at the flames, watching them dance. "There is also the possibility that he expected you to die and so had other groups as back up."

"Or we are the backup," Riandr added thoughtfully.

"Lovely," Fil grumbled.

"In any case he needs you now, or he never would have asked the Nightmother to send Z'nder."

They agreed to that. After a moment of silence Myllian pleaded, "So, boss lady… could we?"

Riandr turned her attention to her friend. The desperate entreaty in her eyes crumbling her resolve. "All right. We'll avoid Markarth. Follow the road north instead toward Karthwasten. That should give us a little extra time. Then we can…" Riandr was cut short as Myllian lunged at her, squeezing the breath from her lungs.

"Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!" Myllian cried. "You have no idea how much this means to me!"

Riandr, her face crushed against the warrior's chest plate, mumbled into her armor, "I… think… I… might."

"Uhm, My. I think you might be killing my sister."

"Oh sorry!" She released Riandr and the assassin gulped for air.

"We should probably eat and then get a good night's rest. If Eydis' directions are good it will take a day or more to reach the redoubt. Once there, who knows what we will find." Drenn bit into a hunk of Eidar cheese, ignoring Fil and Myllian as they loudly prattled on about Hjalti. His thoughts focused instead on Tiber Septim. His grandfather had a great many stories about the man, none complimentary. A great general and a fine warrior he was also power hungry and often cruel. His grandfather remembered the man, had met him once on one of the general's journeys into Morrowind. He had often said there was a great haze of magic around the warrior, something dark and disturbing. His grandfather couldn't define what he felt, but he had had the uneasy feeling that Tiber Septim did not act alone. That something followed him, guided him, aided him and that thing, whatever it was, was neither mortal nor benevolent. Drenn sighed and focused on his meal, keeping his thoughts to himself. He would not utter a word against Myllian's god. She was much too good and simple a soul to have her illusions trampled by the truth.


	21. Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

Riandr slept a little later than usual, enjoying the warmth of the soft bed. She was dreaming, something she did not do often. It was a pleasant dream, also something of a rarity. She stood on a sandy beach, the cool water lapping at her bare toes. Staring across the water she marveled at the predawn sky, soft gray and littered with stars, its reflection glittered perfectly on the lake's mirror surface. As she watched, the sun slowly began to rise over the hills in the distance, changing the sky from gray to blue, casting its warmth on everything it touched. She lifted her face, her eyes closed and she felt the first rays of the morning sun on her skin. A gentle breeze tossed her hair. Taking a deep breath she was surprised to find a hint of salt and the light scent of morning glory on the air. A small smile played with her lips as she remembered that particular flower had been a favorite of her mother. She stood there a moment, reveling in the sensations when she heard a voice call her name. Her eyes flew open, startled and she turned to find a woman on the beach, walking towards her. The woman's figure was blurry at first, indistinct and then as she drew near the figure became very clear and very beloved.

"Hello, daughter," the woman smiled.

"Mother!" Riandr's heart leapt. She should not be here. Her mother should not be here but for some reason Riandr could not remember why. She had gone somewhere… somewhere far away. Yet here she was! She had returned! Riandr felt her eyes stinging with tears. "I have missed you."

The woman nodded. "I know my child. I have missed you as well." They stood for a moment, smiling at each other. "You have become a fine woman, little one. I am so very proud of you."

Riandr drew in a ragged breath, trying hard not to sob. "I have tried mother. I have done… I have been…" she found she could not continue, instead she dropped her head and turned away from the vision before her.

"Hush, sweet girl. You are all that I could have wished for and more. You are without reproach in my eyes." The woman reached out and gently placed her fingers under Riandr's chin, turning her to meet her gaze. A thousand suns could not have filled Riandr with more warmth than the woman's smile.

"And Fil, mother? He's so smart and brave and foolish sometimes," the words came rushing out of her. Her mother had been gone for so long… somewhere. She had so much to tell her!

The woman grinned. "He is much like your father. I am very proud of you both." Her mother reached out and laid a hand against Riandr's cheek. "Daughter," the woman's tone changed and Riandr, a thousand questions on her tongue, grew still. "I must ask you to promise me something."

"What?" Riandr held her breath.

"You must not kill the boy."

Riandr paused, confused. "The boy? What boy, mother?"

The woman's eyes, the same brilliant blue as hers, began to grow, larger and larger until they caught Riandr, held her, pinned her down and surrounded her in their icy cold gaze. "You must not kill the boy, Riandr."

Riandr nodded, not certain what her mother spoke of but knowing in her heart she could not disappoint her. "Yes, mother. I will not kill the boy."

"Promise me!"

"I promise!" Riandr cried, the cold blue of her mother's stare bearing down on her, frightening in its intensity. As she spoke an image flashed before her. An explosion of such magnitude it blocked out the sun. Fire filled the sky, swallowed the earth and boiled the sea. The flames burnt away all life, leaving only a husk of a world. Riandr gasped.

"Stop him but ensure he lives, locked away. His eternity spent in a rocky prison."

"Yes, mother." Riandr found she was unable to look away from the vision. The image before her, a world consumed in fire and flame, more closely resembling Oblivion than Nirn.

"I am so proud of you both." The woman smiled again, her eyes once more filled with warmth and love. "You must wake up now, child."

"What? No!" Riandr tried to protest.

"Wake up now," the woman's voice was teasing.

"Wake UP!"

Riandr's eyes flew open to find Myllian standing over her, pushing on the bed.

"Wake UP!" Myllian teased. "By the gods you're impossible to wake in the morning."

Riandr glanced around the room, disoriented. She was somewhere else… but where? Where had she been? Someone had been with her too. They had been kind and… and they had been away… far away. Riandr rubbed her eyes, trying to focus.

"Come on. The others are half way through their meal and talking about leaving without you. Which is utterly ridiculous to me but you know men." Myllian rambled on completely oblivious to Riandr's confusion. "Besides we head to Bruca's Leap today. Hjalti's sword! Ri! Can you imagine?" The warrior glanced down at her friend, wondering why she still lay there. "Well get up! We have work to do!" With that Myllian stomped from the room, certain she had roused her friend.

Riandr lay there a moment, trying desperately to reconstruct her dream. For a dream it must have been. It had been warm and she had felt very safe and loved. But as hard as she tried to grasp the tendrils of memory, they slipped through her fingers like mist. After a moment she gave up and with a noisy stretch rose, donned her armor and joined them at the table. Breakfast was a fine meal of toasted bread and melted cheese. A cup of hot tea was the perfect compliment. She wasn't surprised to find the spectral warrior still seated in a chair by the fire. She wondered if he had disappeared during the night. Certainly a ghost didn't sleep, but did it dissipate at all? Curious as she was, she decided it would be rude to ask.

Fil sat next to her at breakfast, his face buried in a book.

"What are you reading, brother?"

"The Battle at Sancre Tor." Fil flipped the cover over so she could read its leather face.

"Any good?"

"It's interesting, yes. Details the strategy Talos used to take the fortress. It says here, Drenn," as he spoke he turned to the Dark Elf, pointing to the passage in his tome, "that a Breton mage turned traitor and told General Talos of the fortresses' hidden entrances."

Drenn shook his head. "Highly unlikely."

Fil pointed to the page. "But it says so right here!"

Drenn shrugged. "I rarely believe anything I read when it's written by Man. Sorry, Ri." He grinned at her, trying to soften his criticism.

She laughed. "You're forgiven."

"Well what do you mean by that?" Fil growled. It was one thing to disagree with an historical account of a battle, however if Drenn was attacking all tomes he might be force to hit him with a fireball.

"I meant that often history is written by the victors. And as often it is written rather, inaccurately."

"Oh." Fil steadied himself. "So you don't think it was a Breton?"

Drenn nodded. "No. I don't. Not that a Breton isn't capable of subterfuge, I'm certain they are as easily swayed as any of the mortal races. Again, sorry ladies."

Riandr grinned however Myllian had begun to glare at the Elf.

"Then why not a Breton?"

Drenn paused, gathering his thoughts. "It is simply that, at that time Sancre Tor was a bastion, a haven if you will, for Breton battlemages. There were a great many of them there, full of themselves and their ability to destroy the Cyrodiilic invaders. When the battle was over, General Talos had all of the surviving Battlemages executed. He left none alive. Hardly a fitting reward for an informant."

"Hmm… yes. It does mention that here."

"Furthermore immediately after his taking of Sancre Tor, the Nords joined their forces to his and were instrumental in most of his victories thereafter."

"It would make sense. The Nords decide that their alliance with the Bretons is no longer in their best interest and they hand Sancre Tor, a Breton stronghold, over to Talos."

"Strategically it was a wise move." Out of the corner of his eye Drenn could see Myllian glaring at him. He decided to make an offer of peace. "It once again proves what a brilliant tactician General Talos was and how often he won wars long before he set his men on the battlefield." Though Drenn was relieved to see Myllian relax, he had to struggle to keep his annoyance hidden. It was true, to a point. General Talos was a brilliant tactician. What he also did during his campaign was make promises he never intended to keep. What vows he made to the Nords for their allegiance he couldn't imagine. What he was fairly certain of was if the General's broken promises to Morrowind were any indication, the man did not follow through on them.

They thanked Eydis and paid for their accommodations. The morning still held the grey tint of dawn as they exited the Inn. Riandr had intended to retrace their steps; head back to the road and follow it west and then north past Markarth. Fil however thought it would save time if they continued on the path they had taken to the Inn. Following it north, up the mountainside. It was a vigorous climb, at some points almost vertical. Fil was the only one who complained which allowed the others the opportunity to remind him it was his idea in the first place.

Near midday the path leveled off, giving them a chance to catch their breath, their legs aching from the climb. Riandr pointed to another of the strange piles of rocks that were often found by the side of the road. "Do you know what these are for, My?"

Myllian shrugged. "Not a clue. My father suggested once that they indicated tombs or ancient Nordic sites of religious importance. However I haven't found that to be true. And honestly, my father didn't travel much, so I'm not sure how he would know anyway. Other than he's a Nord."

"Ah ha!" Fil cried. "I wondered where you got your fantica… uhm… devotion to Talos."

"I hadn't mentioned that?" Myllian glanced at them. "Oh… strange. His name is Beirand. He's the blacksmith in Solitude. You sure I haven't mentioned him?"

Fil shook his head. "And mom's the Redguard?"

Myllian nodded. "My brother looks just like my pa. I take after my mum."

"Your mother must be a beautiful woman, Myllian." Drenn smiled at her.

Myllian blushed. "She owns a shop, 'Bits and Pieces' in Solitude. She's very smart and very kind." Myllian grew sad for a moment.

"Was it your father then, who crafted your axe?" Riandr glanced at the blade as it sparkled in the sunlight.

Myllian nodded. "Yes. Pa forged it for me before I left Solitude. How did you know?"

"The design. The Dwemer did not have a double edged, two-handed axe."

"Yes! I designed it myself. I based it on the steel battle axe, but wanted the strength of Dwarven metal."

"I like the way it glitters in the sun," Fil added.

"So do I!" Myllian laughed. "Pa wanted to use ebony but I refused. I love the way the Dwemer metal glows."

Riandr motioned toward her axe and added, "Well it's a beautiful piece, Myllian. Your father is a gifted Smith."

Myllian nodded. "I won't deny it. I'm very proud of him."

As they crested another hill, Riandr stopped for a moment, her attention caught by something in the clearing below them. "Looks like an old campfire," Drenn offered.

Riandr nodded. "Be on your guard people. We're in Forsworn territory." They worked their way slowly down the path, their hands not far from their weapons. The clearing however, was deserted. The logs in the center of a ring of stones were cold. A small alter with a symbol of Mara, one of the eight divine and the goddess of love stood to one side. Riandr thought it a rather lonely place for a temple.

"Oh very nice." Fil had moved to a short hollowed tree stump, intending to harvest the Mora Tapinella that grew on the trunk. Instead he found a knapsack and a grand soul gem stashed inside. He tossed the soul gem to his sister and tore open the sack. Inside he found some clothes, a slightly rotten red apple, a few septim and a tome entitled, Palla. Fil tossed the apple aside and took the knapsack, throwing it to Myllian. "Think you can handle it?"

She grunted. "Yes, mage. I believe so."

"Excellent."

They continued on the path as it descended into a valley. The Reach Mountain range rose high above them on all sides, magnificent in the morning light. Scrub brush and tall grass clung to the small ledges of rock around them, juniper trees offering Fil a chance to gather more herbs. To the north a tower erupted from the mountain. From where they stood they could see it had been taller once, the stone at the top jutting at uneven angles. To the west, atop the mountain range there, Nordic stone birds rose into the sky. Fil could make out four of the statues, standing unchanged through the centuries, their stone gaze frozen on the western horizon. In the lowest part of the valley a small house stood, nestled at the base of the mountains. Riandr could smell the scent of heat and metal on the wind and it made her smile.

As they drew closer to the house they could see a man standing by a smelter, shoveling coal into its base. "Do you want to chat, Ri?" Fil asked.

She shook her head. "Let's keep moving."

The path continued on past the house, working its way up the mountainside to the north. They climbed again, glad there were no Forsworn or saber cats lying in wait. As they reached the top of their climb, Fil paused and glanced back.

"Look, Ri." He tugged on his sister's arm.

She turned and stood still for a moment, her breath taken by the site. They were quite high in the Reach Mountains; below them lay the small valley. However now that they were above the valley they could see that, not far from the house and smelter, the ground dropped away, likely falling far below to the final valley floor. From where they stood they could see all the mountains of the Reach and some of Haafingar. Mile after mile of snow covered mountains, their dark stone and jagged peaks rising high enough to reach the heavens. The white caps sparkled in the sunlight, their majesty filling the horizon as far as the eye could see. They were silent, awed by the sight.

"It's beautiful," Fil whispered.

"Yes," Riandr agreed, once again captivated by the raw beauty that was Skyrim. "It is."

The path wound before them and they continued on. At the summit it leveled off, the tower they had seen earlier from the campsite, only a few yards from them. "Can't we have a look?" Fil asked, knowing what his sister was going to say.

"No." She shook her head and left it at that. The walk was now considerably easier on level ground and their pace improved. Short grass grew in clumps along the path. An occasional juniper tree grew tall, yellow and blue butterflies dancing in its limbs. The path itself meandered and after a while it began to head east.

"We should probably abandon the path," Drenn suggested.

Riandr nodded, taking a sip from her waterskin. "I agree. It looks as if this continues east for quite a while. We'll need to cut through the meadow, head north."

"Cut through the meadow? Do you think that's…" Fil paused as a westerly wind carried the low and angry growl of a bear to him. "All right, the meadow it is!"

Myllian heard the growl as well and axe in hand, hoped fervently that the bear would attack. She hadn't had a good fight since Halldir's Cairn.

They turned north, working their way through the tall grass and shrubs that filled the meadow. Butterflies continued to dance in the sunlight, their presence suggesting tranquility. Elk grazed peacefully on the long grass, rabbits scurried across their path. A fox climbed a small rock not far from them. It glanced in their direction as if to say, 'Follow me!' and then bolted into the brush, disappearing from view. They passed the tower again, letting it rise above them to the west, ignoring its siren call to investigate.

Drenn smelled it first, the scent of blood on the air. He readied his bow, warning the others. "It may well be a recent kill; this meadow must be home to bear and saber cat. But it smells… different."

They each readied their weapons, on their guard and continued northward. Fil saw it first, his lust for treasure making his awareness of Nordic statues almost instinctive. They all turned to where he pointed, searching for and finding the Nordic bird as it leaned against a small outcropping of rock. The stone carving was small for its kind and did not rise above the rocky hill, but rested against it, covered by grass and bush.

With great care they moved closer to the hillock, listening for the sound of a sword or the creak of armor. But the wind brought them only birdsong and the smell of blood. As they drew closer Fil flicked his wrist a spell to detect life glowing in his palm. Nothing shimmered red indicating life except an elk that bounded past them, frightened by their presence. With more confidence they moved forward, weapons still at the ready.

As they climbed the last of the small hill, they found themselves on a dirt path. The path lasted no more than twenty feet and ended in a jagged opening in the hillock. The rock face rose thirty feet into the air, the stone statue lying to the right of the opening. A trail of blood led down the small dirt path, ending at the entrance to the cave as if enticing them to enter. A metal basin with magefire stood on the left, lighting the dark opening.

Myllian twirled her axe, glancing at Riandr. "Are we taking a look, boss?"

"Myllian, do you want to find this sword of Hjalti or not?"

"But look at the blood!" Myllian had no desire to abandon her search for the sword of Talos; however the smell of blood was filling her with a rush of excitement.

"Riandr, look at this." Drenn stood next to a tall rock formation. Stone after stone had been piled, one on top of the other, to form a pyramid similar to those they found alongside the road. At the base of this pyramid lay the scattered remains of humans, awash in a pool of blood. The stones themselves dripped with blood, it trickled down the sides, dripping onto the human remains. A lone steel sword was embedded in the topmost rock. The sword was clean, not a drop of blood on it.

"Where is the blood coming from? How did they embed the sword?" Riandr walked around the pillar of stone, fascinated. "You cannot embed steel in stone. The stone would shatter, the steel would crush."

"Magic," Drenn offered. "And not the, 'let me help you with that wound' variety." He gestured to the remains. "Whatever lives in there, it might not be a bad idea to end its reign of death."

Riandr sighed, frustrated. "I know." She turned her back on the grotesque display for a moment, glancing out over the meadow and the mountain ranges beyond. "Skyrim is so beautiful… and so full of death."

Drenn moved to her side, his tone sympathetic. "As is Morrowind, High Rock, Hammerfell and quite probably Cyrodiil itself. Tamriel is a harsh, unforgiving land." He stared at her, watching her expression as she gazed out over the meadow. "However in-between the struggles for life and limb there are moments of joy and… beauty."

She leaned toward him, resting her head on his shoulder. "Those moments are too few and far between for my liking," she murmured.

"Hey, sis, if we don't either move on or enter the cave, Myllian is going to explode," Fil said quietly.

Riandr turned to find the warrior standing next to the cave opening, her axe twirling at a speed she would have thought impossible. "All right! All right. Let's check out the cave. But, My," the warrior turned to her, her expression alight with the lust for battle, "we don't know what is in there warrior. Keep your head straight and your thoughts clear. Do you understand me?"

Fil moved to Myllian's side, the soft glow of a calming spell in his palm. "You'll be fine, won't you, Myllian?"

As Fil's hand touched her elbow her face relaxed and the insane spinning of the axe slowed. "I'm fine, just anxious to rid the world of some evil." Myllian grinned. "After you, boss."

Riandr glanced at her brother and he nodded. Myllian would be fine now, her blood-lust controllable. The cave opening was narrow so Riandr entered first, Myllian behind her, Fil and then Drenn. The tunnel was dark for a while. Riandr moved through the blackness with ease, Myllian stumbled a bit on the rocky floor. As the tunnel made an abrupt turn Myllian was glad to see a beam of light shine through a hole in the rocky ceiling. Dust danced in the sunlight, and its rays bounced off the wet rock that surrounded them, illuminating the moss and bracken that grew on the walls. The head of an elk lay mounted on a rocky ledge, its cold dead eyes staring down at them. Riandr sighed. Elk heads displayed as ornaments screamed Forsworn.

They continued forward slowly, weapons ready when suddenly the tunnel ended, opening up into a large circular room. Three stone columns rose from the floor, surrounding a dais. A single ray of light shone through a crack in the ceiling exposing a pedestal that stood atop the dais. Nearer to them a metal bowl sat on a stand, the magefire it held casting long shadows. At its base lay an Orc, his head twisted at an odd angle.

Fil flicked his wrist and satisfied that the room held no life he motioned to Riandr that they were safe to enter. Myllian replaced her axe into its holder, growling her frustration. Fil moved to the dead Orc, wondering if his corpse might hold a valuable or two. Riandr and Drenn moved to the pedestal. She checked its sides for traps and found none. The base of the pedestal was common, made of iron and covered in carvings it rose to about four feet. Typically at that point the Nord design would offer a flat surface with either a book or magic item on top. The flat apex was often a pressure plate and when you removed the item you were doused in flame or hit with deadly spikes. However this pedestal was different. Rather than offering a flat surface the peak was rounded with an opening in the top. The hole was almost oval in shape, sharply pointed on both sides. Riandr stared at the gap for a moment. The shape of the opening seemed somehow familiar. She reached out tracing the outline of the gap with her finger again and again until it came to her.

"A sword!" Riandr motioned to the shape of the opening. "See? Here is where you place the blade, like so. It would drop into the pedestal, with only the hilt remaining."

Drenn nodded. "Yes! How strange. It must have a purpose," he mumbled.

"Ri, take a look." Fil joined them, a tome in his hand. "I found this on the Orc, The Legend of Red Eagle by Tredayn Dren." He glanced at his sister. "Oh yes, he was an Archivist at Winterhold. He…" at the sound of her frustrated sigh, he quickly continued, "In any case, it tells the legend of Red Eagle, a Reachman from the first era. It details his fight to unite his people, his battles with the empire and his subsequent death. Mentions his fiery sword and that one day, when his people had once again taken back their land, they should return to him his sword so he might rise again and lead them."

They glanced at the pedestal, knowing now that it waited, century after countless century, for the return of its key, the sword of Red Eagle.

"Myllian," Riandr whispered, glancing at the warrior.

Myllian shrugged. "I know… nothing here. Let's move on." She headed for the tunnel happy at least that they had not simply strolled off, leaving a killer hidden inside the cave.

Fil handed her the tome.

"What? Are you taking the Orc's book?" Myllian asked affronted.

Fil glanced back to the Orc's corpse. "Well he won't be reading it again and I don't have a copy of this one."

She glared at him. "Why am I carrying it then? I'm not your pack mule, mage," the last was said with a snarl.

Fil grinned at her, his smile charming and completely shameless. "But, My, you know how much stronger than me you are."

"Oh give it here." She grabbed the book, shoving it in the knapsack she carried for him. "Sometimes I think you use magic on me when I am unaware, mage."

Fil glanced away, hiding his expression. His tone however was serious as he said, "Never, warrior. I wouldn't dare."

They continued north, working their way through the grassy meadow. When they passed by two tall towers Fil sighed but refrained from asking if they could investigate. The towers were crumbling and old, but still offered sturdy protection to whatever was housed within. He had no desire to battle a tower full of Forsworn.

It was past midday when they reached a clearing under an immense juniper tree. In the clearing, four stone arches formed a small circle; the stones tilted slightly and showing signs of centuries of weathering indicated a place of magic and worship in centuries past. Just to the edge of the circle the ground dropped away to the valley floor, hundreds of feet below. Drenn moved to the cliff's edge, enthralled by the view. The Reach and Haarfingar Mountains rose majestically before them, their snowcapped peaks sparkling in the midday sun. The valley spread out below, offering a view of the lands hundreds of leagues to the west and north.

"What is that?" Myllian joined him, pointing to a few buildings she could barely discern on the valley floor to the west.

"Karthwasten I believe," Drenn replied. "And those are the mountains of Haafingar Reach."

"And that," Riandr added as she pointed to the road and stone bridge that crossed the Karth River barely visible below them, "is where we need to be."

"Well I'm not jumping down," Myllian teased. "I could push Fil for you if you want. See if he survives the fall."

Fil, who had kept distance between himself and the cliff face, took a seat on a nearby boulder, intent on filling his belly. He stopped searching in his satchel long enough to offer Myllian a scathing look. "Funny, warrior. You're crazy, all of you," he murmured, returning his attention to the search for food.

Drenn glanced at Riandr, curious. "He is afraid of heights," she whispered. "Always has been."

"Not afraid!" Fil said between mouthfuls of bread and cheese. "Merely cautious."

Myllian laughed. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, mage." She was moving to his side when the howling of wolves drifted to her on the wind. In a flash she had Dragon's Doom in hand and was racing toward the sound.

The others watched her go, grins on their faces. Riandr took a seat next to Fil, stealing some of his bread and cheese. "We'll have to find a path down to the valley, keep working our way north."

Drenn glanced around, sipping from the waterskin. "There should be a path somewhere. We could head east a way, see what that offers."

Riandr nodded. "At this point it's a gamble either way."

Drenn moved back toward the cliff's edge, something about the rocky outcropping to the east catching his attention. He glanced at Riandr and smiled. "Going to have a look at something, be right back."

Myllian rejoined them, out of breath, a huge smile covering her face. "I love wolf packs."

"Here." Fil tossed her a hunk of bread. "You've earned it."

Myllian dropped to the ground and sat cross legged, devouring her bread. "So where to now?" she asked between bites.

"East I think," Riandr said. "Try to find a path down." She knew that Drenn was a superb archer, had lived alone in the wilds for a decades before they had met, but still she scanned the surrounding brush nervously, searching for him. Her face showed her relief when he came into view.

The grin he gave her was reassuring. "Well, I've found a path."

"Wonderful!" Riandr said.

"It's steep, quite steep in parts and…" Drenn paused.

"And what?" Fil asked.

"Well… it ends on top of a fortress."

"On top?"

"Yes. You can see the parapets and it's… occupants."

"Imperials?" Fil asked hopefully.

Drenn shook his head. "Forsworn."

"Ah… dung," the mage grumbled.

"It's the quickest way down. The road lies directly in front of the fort. We'll be high enough to have the advantage at first. We could probably eliminate a few of them before they know we're there." Drenn glanced at Riandr, knowing she would be the one to make the decision.

"Could we sneak by?"

Drenn shook his head. "No. They would be on us before we were anywhere near the road."

Riandr stood and angrily moved toward the cliff's edge, staring at the valley below. 'That is what it always comes down to,' she thought furiously. 'Kill, before you are killed.' She was so intent on her internal battle that she jumped when Fil appeared by her side.

He stood silently beside her, steeling himself against the view. Keeping his focus on the tips of the Haarfingar Mountains he tried to quell the rumblings of his stomach so he could offer his sister some comfort. "You ok?" he asked.

Riandr, fully aware of her brother's fear, had to acknowledge his courage. With a sigh she slipped her hand into his, holding on tightly. "Yes and no. Don't you ever tire of it, brother? The killing?"

Fil nodded. "Certainly! Though I must admit I mostly grow weary of other people trying to kill me!" She chuckled at that. "But, Ri, they're not people."

"Yes they are!" she said vehemently.

"Well yes… humans. But they kill, indiscriminately, sis. They attack anything that crosses their path. You saw it yesterday! They may have started their campaign in the first era as displaced people, fighting to regain their home. But over the millennium of fighting something's… happened to them. They have no mercy, Ri, no compassion for anyone other than the Forsworn."

"But…"

"Sis, if it were a nest of saber cats or trolls or even a den of wolves, would you hesitate?" Riandr shook her head. "Exactly. And why? Because you know that those enemies kill without thought, without pity. The Forsworn are just as bad, just as evil. They would kill or torture a merchant or peddler, a farmer and his wife, as quickly as you would hand them gold for food. I respect the cause they once fought for, but the lust for that cause has warped them and now they have no honor, no mercy. I believe they should be shown none." Fil had grown impassioned as he spoke, his hatred for the Forsworn clear.

"Perhaps you are right, brother," Riandr murmured, knowing they had little recourse.

"What do you think, boss?" Myllian's stalwart voice made her grin. Nothing fazed the warrior, not battle or death. She knew her place in the world and was glad of it. Riandr wished for a moment she still felt that same peace.

"Down the path I think." Riandr stepped away from the cliff's edge and pulled her brother with her. His grateful sigh made her smile. She turned to Drenn and asked, "Did you happen to see how many we are up against?"

"I saw four wandering the parapets. The fort is large though, many more inside I imagine."

Riandr glanced at Myllian, her expression somber. "We are not going to enter the fort or dally long enough to know their full compliment. We kill the exterior guards and then take to the road, heading north as quickly as possible. You still have a sword to find, remember?"

Myllian nodded, her search for Hjalti's sword too close to her heart to risk losing time with Forsworn.

Drenn took the lead, helping them down the rocky slope to the east of the stone circle. Fil thought the pathway was going to drop from beneath him at times. It took all of his courage to not shriek like a little girl. Myllian kept close to him, her axe still sheathed so she could have both hands free to steady him if his legs got wobbly.

Riandr moved with Drenn, each of them completely confident on the steep path. Drenn was once again amazed at how evenly matched they were. Riandr's sight was impressive, her instincts sharp, her balance and speed almost Elven in ability. He could never tell them, never mention his inherent belief that Mer was superior to Man. He did not like that part of himself but he also could not help it. He spent his first two hundred years surrounded by his people. It would have been impossible to not have some of that prejudice rub off. But this woman, this human! He'd be surprised if even his grandfather would not have been impressed with her.

They reached a rocky ledge that shot from the path. Riandr, dropping into her crouch, moved to the edge, staring at the fortress below. The roof of a pair of towers sat at almost eye level with them, a smaller tower below. The tower roofs appeared empty, but on a bridge that ran between the two, a lone figure paced. The smaller tower, or more a partial shell of what had once been a third tower, held a forge. She could make out a woman sitting at the grindstone, her back to them. Two other Forsworn walked the landing in front of the towers. It ran the length of the fortress and gave the guards a complete view of the road below them. "I count four as well," she whispered to Drenn. He nodded.

Fil moved next to her, in the same stealthy crouch as she. "How many can you take out from here, Drenn?"

"Only the two, there and there, before the others notice my arrows and run for cover."

"If you wait, I can move to the bridge, take out that guard," Riandr added.

Fil turned to her. "There's not a lot of shadow, sis."

"There's enough, brother."

"Ever notice," Fil murmured to no one in particular, "how there are never any children in Forsworn camps?"

"It's a military base, Fil, of course there's no children." Riandr glanced at him, surprised at his comment.

He caught and held her gaze, his tone serious, "Exactly."

She opened her mouth to say something scathing and then sighed, accepting his point. The Forsworn were soldiers in a war that they had declared on the people of Skyrim. And in war, soldiers died.

"Give me a few minutes, Drenn. Then let your arrows fly," Riandr whispered before she disappeared over the side of the ledge. Moving slowly along the rock face, she blended into the shadow supplied by the first tower. Inching her way carefully along it, she was almost invisible in the dabbled sunlight. As she reached the edge of the building she glanced around its curve to find the lone guard standing by the edge of the rampart, staring out at the horizon. Soundlessly she crept to the shadow of a fallen stone buttress, inching her way closer and closer. When she stood only a few feet from the guard, she removed Silence from its sheath. The blade shivered in anticipation. Instinct and training took over then and without conscious thought she leapt the distance between them, grabbing the woman under her chin, yanking her head back while running Silence across her throat. She pulled the woman back from the edge, allowing neither a cry nor drop of blood to alert the others.

Drenn waited until Riandr reached the fallen buttress, then as she crossed the space between her and her victim, he let fly his arrows. Each of the bolts found their mark, the woman at the grindstone slumped forward the arrow protruding from her back. The guard on patrol took Drenn's arrow in the chest with such force it pushed her off the edge of the rampart. She fell soundlessly to the ground, dead.

'That makes three,' Drenn thought anxiously. 'Where is the fourth?'

Riandr moved to the edge of the bridge, glancing below. The last Forsworn sat at a table at the end of the landing, her back to the rest of the fort. Riandr knew they were lucky she faced away and had not seen her sister tumble over the side. She also knew there was no time to lose. As soon as the Forsworn turned she would notice her fallen brethren and sound the alarm. The drop to the landing was over forty feet, much too far to survive in a single drop, even for her. A row of stone buttresses jutted out from the building fifteen feet below her. The top of the structure offered a foot square ledge for her to crouch upon, cutting the distance almost in half. 'Well,' she thought, 'Have to do it in two steps then.'

Leaping over the side of the rock bridge, she landed soundlessly on the buttress top. She crouched, holding her breath, but the Forsworn did not move. Three buttresses lined the wall in front of her, offering her the chance to draw closer to her prey. Taking a deep breath she silently leapt across them, not daring to pause knowing the small ledges she used were covered with centuries of moss and crumbling stone. The slightest misstep, the soft scattering of pebbles onto the rampart below and the Forsworn would be alerted to her presence. As she reached the final ledge she saw the Forsworn turn toward her. Whether from falling rock or instinct the woman knew something wasn't right.

Without pausing to think Riandr leapt off the final ledge, the Elven blade in her hand. The woman had the length of a heartbeat to glance up and register Riandr's flight through the air, before the assassin landed on top of her. Riandr's blade pierced the woman's heart before she had a chance to scream. The familiar whoosh filled the air as the soft lavender light of the woman's soul rose, floated around them in a vicious maelstrom then vanished, drawn into the black soul gem Riandr carried.

Blood burst from the woman's wound, soaking Riandr's armor. With mixed feelings she watched the armor absorb the blood, red fire flickering along its length as it did. She rose from the corpse and turned, not surprised to find the others waiting by the staircase not far from her. "Let's go!" Fil whispered loudly. She glanced at the dead woman, and then wiped the blood from her blade onto her armor, watching it disappear into the enchanted fabric. Her expression, when she joined them, was inscrutable.

"Not much further now," she said, and then turned west following the stone road. They fell in place beside her, keeping an eye out for any random Forsworn who might be patrolling the road.

They had not been traveling long when they came upon another fork in the road. Ahead to the west, Riandr could see the stone bridge she'd noticed from the cliff. The path to the right appeared to head north. A pyramid of stones sat at the fork in the road, taunting them. "What do you think, My?"

The warrior shrugged. "I really have no idea what these things mean. Maybe my ancestors just like to make little stone towers?"

Riandr laughed. "Let's head north then. Daylight grows short and I for one would like to find a decent place to camp before darkness over takes us."

The continued on, following the path through brush and rock. The mountains rose high on either side of them, blocking their view of everything but the path they were on. Occasionally a rocky path would shoot off their route, heading up the hillsides, offering a trail to the west or east. They ignored these paths and continued north, the sound of the river to the west, growing louder as they moved.

It was near dark before the path before them widen and the river came into view. Not long after they were startled to hear the sound of hammer on steel. "A forge?" Riandr wondered. They followed the sound, curious, until they came upon a small camp of Stormcloak soldiers. Three tents sat in a corpse of trees near the river. Stormcloak soldiers patrolled the perimeter of the camp. They glared at the group menacingly.

"Do you want a fight?" one of them growled.

Myllian grinned and replied, "Always!" She pulled Dragon's Doom from its sheath, spinning it so it would catch the sun's dying rays. "In Talos' name!"

Either the sight of Dragon's Doom or her passion for Talos moved the men. They lowered their weapons, their grins hidden by their helmets. "Owww, you're all right 'den." With that they continued on with their patrols.

"Oh… okay." Myllian replaced her axe in its holder, slightly disappointed.

Riandr entered the camp; intent on finding the blacksmith, Drenn followed her hoping to procure additional arrows if possible. He was also acutely aware that as accepting as Myllian might be of his Dark Elf heritage, these Nords might not be so welcoming.

Fil moved to the campfire, the smell of stew overpowering his dislike of soldiers. "What's cooking?" he asked the man stirring the pot.

"Fish stew," the man replied.

"Smells delicious."

Riandr waited until the Quartermaster noticed her. "Can I help you?" the woman asked.

"We were hoping you might have some arrows for sale." Riandr gestured to Drenn. "We're heading north and I'm certain we will continue to run into trouble."

The woman nodded. "Imperials, trolls, bandits and now dragons! 'da roads aren't safe for anyone 'dese days. Here," she gestured to the table near her. "'dis is what I can spare."

They glanced over her wares, deciding her Elven arrows would do. Not as sturdy as Lod's glass arrows, but acceptable. Riandr tried a few of her bows, suddenly wishing she could carry her own. Sadly, as her leap from the buttresses of the Forsworn fort had just shown her, her talents did not lend themselves to carrying a large object on her back. Even one as light as a bow.

She was discussing the use of malachite in armor with the Quartermaster when shouting broke out near the campfire. Riandr turned, noting with a groan that Fil stood in the middle of a circle of Stormcloaks, their voices raised in anger. "What's he done now?" she mumbled to Drenn.

They moved swiftly to Fil's side, anxious to calm the situation. He stood, surrounded by soldiers, a particularly large Nord facing him. "You will not insult my friend!" Fil growled at the man.

"What? She too puny to defend 'erself?" the man sneered.

Myllian chuckled, reaching for Dragon's Doom. "Oh that's done it now, by Talos. I'll cut your head clean off and eat your heart before your stupid skull hits the ground."

The man blanched a little at the site of her axe but was too far gone to stop now. "Oh I'm so 'fraid, little girl. Gonna chop me 'ead off? Why don't you get yourself back to 'ammerfel where you belong?"

With a flick of his wrists Fil held a fireball in each hand. "Why you son of a…"

"Whoa! Hold up brother." Riandr entered the circle laying a restraining hand on Fil's shoulder.

"A mage! 'e's a sinkin' mage!" the man yelled. "I told ya we shouldn'ta let them in! Stupid Redguard and her pet mage. We should kill 'em, all of 'em! Dump their bodies in the river!"

There was silence from the crowd that surrounded them.

"Enough!" A giant of a man entered the circle. From his posture, tone and stature Riandr knew this must be the commander. "What are you doing now, Boldar?"

The man turned his glare on the commander. "Stupid patrol let these scum in. A damn Redguard and a mage! It's not right cap'n! We're Nords! We fight to rule Skyrim again! Take back what is rightfully ours! Can't do 'dat with 'dis scum wandering 'da 'ills. We gotta make Skyrim clean, pure… for us! For true Nords!"

"You're drunk, soldier. Go to your tent and sober up." The commander's tone left no room for argument.

"But you agree with me, dontcha? You know what we gotta do! We've gotta fight for…" At that moment Boldar's gaze fell on Drenn. If it were possible Riandr would have sworn the man's eyes bulged out of his head. "By Talos, 'dat's it! I'll take no more scum walkin' my land!" He lunged at Drenn, his eyes filled with hatred.

As the man dove at Drenn, Fil raised his hands, his flames ready. Riandr pulled Silence from her sheath, dropping to a crouch ready to spring, Myllian took a step toward Drenn, thinking to push him to the ground to give herself room to swing her axe and decapitate the soldier. However before any of them could act the commander raised his mace and struck Boldar on the head. The man crumbled to the ground and lay there, unmoving.

"Corporal, if this soldier still lives, drag him to his tent and lay him on his cot."

"Yes sir." The corporal dropped to his knees, placing his ear on the man's chest. After a moment he nodded and then grabbed Boldar by the feet and dragged him off, Boldar's face bouncing painfully against the ground as he went.

"Sorry about that," the commander apologized. "He's an idiot and he's drunk. Never a good combination. Name's Perrold. I'm commander of this misfit unit." At that a little round of laughter erupted from the soldiers. Perrold glanced at Fil's hands, and Myllian's axe. "Any chance you might stand down?"

Riandr looked at the pair and nodded. She had replaced Silence to her sheath as soon as she saw the mace finish its arc. Fil doused his flame, glancing at the circle of soldiers surrounding them. "Will we have any more trouble?"

The commander shook his head. "As I said, Boldar is an idiot, but a good fighter. I need all the good fighters I can get."

"Sir." One of the women stepped out from the circle. "I just wanted to add sir, my sister's a mage." The other soldiers glanced at her, a soft murmur rippling through the crowd. "I've never mentioned it before sir because… well… it's not something we talk about much, except at home I mean. But I love my sister and I'm very proud of her." The woman glanced at Fil, then back at the commander. "That's all I wanted to say, sir."

The commander smiled at the woman. "Where's your sister now, soldier? I could use her skills!" This elicited another burst of laughter.

"She's smarter than Effie, sir," a male voice called out. "She signed up with another unit!"

"Very funny, Karl." Perrold turned a warm smile on them. "You're welcome to stay if you like. We have stew and I promise you Boldar won't wake until well into the day tomorrow. Even then he'll be in no condition to cause trouble."

"If it won't be any trouble commander." Riandr's glance took in the entire camp.

"None at all." He turned to the cook who stood by the large pot of stew, still stirring away. "A few extra bowls for our friends, Thyierd."

The cook grinned. "Right away, sir."

As if that were the signal to disperse, the soldiers slowly drifted away, some to their tents, some to the fire and others back to their work. A few gathered around Myllian, Dragon's Doom drawing its full share of attention.

The young woman who had mentioned her sister, moved to Fil's side. When she struggled to find the words to start a conversation with him, he took pity on her and asked about her sister. The soldier jumped on the topic with joy.

"So," Perrold asked, "what brings you people to my little camp?"

"We're traveling north. Heading to a placed called Bruca's Leap."

The commander nodded. "Have you been traveling long? I ask not to be nosey but because we get very little word of the world outside this small valley. We've been here nigh on three months and not a single parchment has reached us about Skyrim, the war or home. Sometimes I think Ulfric has forgotten we're here." He sighed and added, "I apologize. I don't mean to complain, but I ache for news of home."

"Where are you from?" Drenn asked.

"I own a mill outside of Falkreath, on the shores of Lake Ilinalta. Beautiful little place. My wife and son are there, still running the mill." As he spoke his gaze seemed to focus on a far distant shore.

"We've recently been to Falkreath." Drenn offered. "Spent a few weeks there."

"Really?" Perrold was excited by this news. "You didn't happen to pass Gerta's Mill did you?"

Riandr shook her head. "Sorry, no."

"Ah well, that would have been too much too ask. How fares Falkreath though?"

Drenn and Riandr gave him a full account of their time in Falkreath, omitting the werewolf and downplaying the dragon. The man was stuck here in this valley, waiting for a war that wouldn't start. The last thing he needed was to be terrified for the safety of his family back home.

"We have heard the dragon's bellows, felt the earth shake beneath our feet. I had hoped they would not travel as far away as Falkreath." The commander glanced at the fire, his expression worried. Then he turned to them and with a grateful smile said, "Thank goodness you were there! Who knows what devastation that beast may have wrought if not for your band! Thank you for rescuing Valdr as well. He's a good man, but a clumsy hunter," Perrold laughed. "I remember when we were boys, oh Talos the trouble we got into."

They sat in silence for a moment, the fish stew making them drowsy after the day's events. "So you head for Bruca's Leap?"

Drenn nodded. "It's not far now, is it?"

"No, less than a half day. Why do you travel there, if you don't mind my asking?"

"My warrior friend is searching for a sword that legend says lies there," Riandr replied.

"Ah," the commander nodded. "Well you're certainly brave. I'm not sure I would have the courage to venture there. You know the redoubt is filled with Forsworn, right?"

Riandr groaned and Drenn laughed. "No," Drenn said between chuckles. "But we do now!"

Across the fire Riandr watched as Myllian offered axe handling instructions to a group of captivated soldiers. To her right Fil was flicking his wrists, calling up all manner of spells to enchant a group of females who surrounded him. Riandr felt her stomach churn. She couldn't call off the search, they had already come this far. But a camp full of Forsworn? At the very least they were going to be exhausted by the time they reached Vol'vahlok!

Drenn caught her gaze, his ruby eyes sparkling as he said, "I have a good feeling about this, Ri. I believe we are exactly where we should be, doing exactly what we should be doing."

Riandr's eyes narrowed in disbelief. "You are a seer now?"

He laughed. "No. But I am a great deal older than you, and considerably wiser. You'll have to take my word."

Riandr sighed and then said with a laugh, "Whatever you say… old man."

"Captain, a word please?" The Quartermaster nodded to Drenn and Riandr as Perrold stood.

"Certainly, Lyndia, I'm at your service." As they moved away from the fire Riandr turned to Drenn.

"Not to criticize, archer, but what happened?" she teased.

"Whatever do you mean, woman?" Drenn hid his grin by taking a long drink from his mug.

She shook her head. "Ah no, none of that! You know exactly what I mean. You froze! When the fool rushed at you, murder in his eyes, you stood still as stone. Unflinching. What happened?"

He stared into his mug for a moment and then said, "And what would movement have gained us? You pulled your blade, Fil his fire, Myllian her axe. But why? We are surrounded by the man's compatriots; do you really think that murdering him, no matter how much the fool deserved it, would have gone without a response?"

She made as if to protest when he raised his hand. "I know that your instinct was to protect me. And thank you for that, by the way," the grin he gave her was filled with warmth and a small amount of derision. "But it will be a cold day in Oblivion when I cannot sidestep a Nord drunkard."

Embarrassed she stared into the fire for a moment. He grinned and added, "Besides, Ri, look around you. It was the commander's job to discipline the man, not ours. He, in good faith, gave the laggard an opportunity to change his behavior. In front of his men, his soldiers, he proved himself to be both fair and in control. If we had killed the fool he would have had to take some course of action against us! Would you have sat idly by while Fil or Myllian was incarcerated? Waiting to go on trial for the man's murder? No, you would not. And yes, all things being equal we would have been able to escape the camp, but how many of these men would we have had to kill in the process?"

Riandr glanced at the group laughing at some story Myllian was telling.

"Everything about the commander, his carriage, his tone, the way he held his hand just above the hilt of his mace, his fingers flexing… suggested he knew exactly how the scene with Boldar would play out and he had it well in hand. I was never in any danger."

Riandr turned toward Drenn, her grin sheepish. "How did I miss all of that?"

"As I said, I do have age on my side. I also have… many, many years of experience dealing with that particular form of bigotry." Drenn tried to keep the anger from his voice and failed.

Riandr had the sudden intense desire to kill anyone who had ever hurt this man. She leaned toward him, resting her head on his shoulder, her hand on his upper arm. She could feel the muscles in his arm tighten for a moment, and then he relaxed and slowly let his head rest against hers. They sat like that for a moment, staring at the fire and then, her tone filled with laugher, she said, "Good thing you're not addled by age then, old man. I might be forced to put you out of your misery. A good death and all."

Drenn laughed softly. "Well you would have the distinct advantage in a fight, as I could never harm a hair on your head."

She kept her gaze on the fire, but thought her body must be burning as hot as the flames. It took Fil's raucous laughter to distract her. "I have to admit," she said as she sat up, pulling herself from Drenn with reluctance "that I am glad we will sleep in the camp tonight."

Drenn nodded, intensely aware of how much he now missed her touch. He glanced at Fil. "You know I respect your brother…"

"And I love him…"

"But when he is on guard duty…"

"I sleep…"

"With one eye open!" they whispered softly then burst out laughing.

Drenn couldn't help the snicker that escaped him. "I'm always afraid he'll fall asleep!"

"Or bury his head in a book and forget to keep an eye out." Riandr laughed.

"What's so funny?" Fil asked, his tone more reserved than usual. He had been watching them from across the camp. Saw his sister lean against Drenn; saw the expression on Drenn's face as he stared into the fire. He liked Drenn, respected him even. But he had seen his sister destroyed by a man once already. Fil intended there should never be a second time.

"Nothing, brother." Riandr smiled at him.

"Well, I think we should probably rest. Get an early start in the morning." Fil offered her his hand and she took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet.

"How very responsible of you." She turned to Drenn her expression mocking. "I shall say good night then, archer. As my brother suggests, early start tomorrow."

"Night, Drenn." Fil glanced at Drenn before ushering Riandr away from the fire, suggesting random places for them to set up their bedrolls.

Drenn stayed at the fire for a moment, his thoughts in turmoil. Fil's expression had been… cold. There was no other word for it. He had tried to mask it, tried to appear normal, but in his typical fashion, failed miserably. Drenn watched Fil and Riandr as they moved away. Everything about Fil's stance suggested possession. How he continued to hold her hand, the position of his other hand on the small of her back, the way her steered her in the direction he wanted her to go. If he didn't know better, Drenn would have said Fil was jealous. But jealous of what? Of him? He knew in his heart Fil cared naught about his Dark Elf heritage. In fact if he was pressed he would have said his heritage fascinated the mage. So what then? What could have brought about such a sudden and… then it dawn on him. Riandr's head against his shoulder, their moment of… affection? But why? Why would that worry her brother?

Drenn stared into the dancing flames, trying to decide by what he knew of Fil, what could be bothering him. Perhaps he had no problem with Drenn's Dark Elf blood as long as it stayed away from his sister? Or was it his lack of magical ability that troubled the mage? His age? Though to look at him he did not appear much older than they, he was over three hundred. Perhaps that was too much time, too much of a difference for Fil to overlook. In frustration Drenn tossed the remainder of his mead onto the fire. He was a fool to ever leave the woods; he should have stayed there, away from Man and their stupidity.

He found his gaze drawn to Riandr's now supine form. A small huddled mass in the dark, his Elven eyes could see every wrinkle of blanket, every strand of hair on her head. He shook his head and laughed softly. What did it matter now? He had shot the troll, had traveled with this band and was now committed to preventing the boy-god from obtaining the shards. And, whether he liked it or not, it became apparent to him that the beating of his heart had become attuned to her very breath. He may be out of the woods, but he had stumbled into a darker and more dangerous quagmire. And for all his vaulted hunting skills, he had no clue how to navigate through it.


	22. Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty One

They parted company with the camp early, none of them having any interest in meeting a sober Boldar. The directions given by Eydis suggested they follow the river, and cross it at the first shallow section and continue north. However it quickly became clear that crossing the river would be difficult at best. Across the water smaller streams fed into the river, causing it to flow faster and deeper, forming white caps and small whirlpools. As they traveled along its banks, the thunderous crash of a waterfall grew increasingly louder. They had almost given up hope of finding a way across when the river took an abrupt turn east, forming a wide lake right before it tumbled over the mountainside. The lake was deep and spotted with small islands and rocky landings. The dots of land were filled with mudcrabs.

Drenn and Riandr took a moment to climb a hillside to the east, hoping to find a pathway across the waterway, however all the climb offered them was a steep and deadly drop into the river as it tumbled down the waterfall, ending well over a hundred feet below them.

Working their way back to shore, they agreed there was nothing to do but swim across the lake. Fil shot lightning bolts at the mudcrabs he could see, removing them as obstacles. They waded in, quickly finding themselves neck deep in the river. The current was strong as the water flowed quickly, heading toward the falls. They used the islands to collect themselves, climbing onto the dry land and gathering their strength. They were all strong swimmers, Fil and Riandr having grown up in Riften, a city that was built over a lake and Myllian having grown up in Solitude a port that hovered over the sea. Drenn had three hundred years of experience. However the current was strong and their weapons and packs added to their drag. They found the passage tiring and were glad of the small isles. Mudcrabs infested these safe havens, so Myllian and Fil shared the task of eliminating them.

They were more than half way across the lake when Riandr began to notice a tugging on her leg. It was gentle at first, almost as if she had brushed up against a sunken log or tree branch. However it quickly grew stronger, as if something was pulling or tearing at her armor. When she reached down, she felt nothing. They were almost at the shore when she heard Myllian squeal.

Riandr pulled herself up onto a rocky outcropping and turned to her friend. "What is it?"

Myllian kept swimming toward her. "I don't know. Something just bit me I think."

"Mudcrab?" Fil asked, swimming beside her.

"No I… ouch!" the warrior cried. "By the gods, something just nibbled my bum!"

"What?" Fil tried not to swallow too much water as he chuckled.

"Something just… oh dung," Myllian groaned as a small fin broke the surface of the water a short ways away. It moved toward her with frightening speed. "Slaughterfish!"

"What?" Fil cried out, all thoughts of laughter erased from his mind.

"Hurry you two! SWIM!" Riandr yelled. Slaughterfish were two foot long vicious hunters that swam in large schools. Their elongated snouts were filled with razor sharp teeth. A single slaughterfish could easily be killed by a dagger, but they traveled in such large schools that their presence almost always ended in a swimmer being viciously ripped apart. It didn't help matters that most of their victims were helpless in the water. Fil could not use his magicka while swimming nor could Myllian wield her axe. Riandr raced along the rocky ledge and then leapt from the rock onto the muddy shoreline.

"_Fil_! _Move_!" Riandr screamed. Fil wasn't moving; he barely seemed to be treading water, his gaze frozen on the large snout of a slaughterfish that had broken the surface of the water ten feet from him. An arrow sliced the air, gutting the slaughterfish as it opened its long snout to bite Fil on the face. Fil froze, staring at the dead fish.

"I'd swim a little faster, mage," Drenn suggested, his tone intense. "I can't kill them all." He notched arrow after arrow, swiftly killing one fish after another, as they approached Fil. The mage glanced behind him; the fins of a large school of slaughterfish breached the top of the water, and with unnatural precision honed in on him and raced toward him. The sight broke through his fear and with a gulp he swam as fast as he could, his mage robes hindering his effort considerably. As he neared the beach Myllian raced from the shore, out onto the lake and reaching down, grabbed Fil by his robe pulling him from the water. With a burst of Redguard adrenaline she flung the mage toward shore. Fil flew for a good twenty feet before dropping unceremoniously onto the beach. His grunt of pain was unmistakable.

"Fil? Are you all right?" Riandr raced to his side.

He slowly nodded his head and mumbled into the beach sand, "Fine… sis. Just… working… on my… tan."

Riandr reached out and pushed a wet curl from his forehead. Laughing she chided, "Brat."

As Myllian joined him on the beach she chuckled, "Well, that was fun!" She shook the water from her armor and hair, and then glanced around looking for some moss or grass to wipe down her blades.

"Over here, My. This moss works well." Riandr lead her to a patch of lichen covering some boulders off shore.

Fil lay on the sand for a moment, letting the breath return to his lungs. He opened his eyes and slowly sat up, each movement sending a flash of pain to his left side which had taken the brunt of his landing. He glanced down to the water's edge to find a slaughterfish floating near his feet. He jumped up, his hands instantly alight with spells of fire and ice, only to find Drenn's arrow protruding from the fish's back. He grabbed the arrow and pulled the fish from the water, taking a long look at its lengthy snout filled with vicious teeth. "You are ugly," he whispered. Pulling the arrow from its back, he took his knife from its sheath and began scrapping scales from the fish's side.

"Slaughterfish scales?" Myllian asked, jumping up and down on one foot, trying to shake the water from her ear.

Fil nodded. "They have a few good properties, but mostly they fetch a decent amount of gold. No one really wants to collect them, you see." He placed the scales in one of the small vials he carried.

With each movement the muscles along his left ribs were cramping and sending small bursts of pain along his side. Rather than waste a potion of healing for something so small he cast a spell of healing and placed his hand over the strain. Healing himself was never as effective as healing another. When a healer mended a wound, they drew the patient's pain from them and allowed the healing magicka to flow threw the mage into the patient. The removal of the pain was an essential part of the spell of healing, of the magicka itself. It both diminished the damage done by the wound but also increased the patient's ability to heal at a rapid rate. When a mage was both patient and healer, there was no where for the pain to go. The best the mage could do was draw the pain from the wounded area and disperse it throughout his body. The more devastating the wound, the more dangerous the consequences were to the body. Luckily a few pulled muscles were well within Fil's abilities.

"All right, brother?" Riandr asked again.

Fil nodded and added with a grin, "Got it under control." Once his pain had subsided, he focused on his robes. They were heavy with water and not for the first time he was envious of Riandr's armor. He tried to ring his robes dry as best he could; even cast a Cloak of Flame on himself, hoping the heat from the flames might dry his robes a little faster. Grumbling at the thought of having damp underwear he admitted to himself that though he may be a fan of mage traditions, it might well be time to reinvent mage garments, or at the very least create a spell to dry them efficiently.

Riandr and Drenn waited at the base of a rocky slope a few feet from shore. When Fil and Myllian had finished drying themselves, they joined them. Fil glanced at Drenn and nodded.

"Thanks for the save, Drenn. Not that I didn't have those fish on the run… or swim," Fil said with a self-deprecating grin. Last night he had wrestled with his feelings for a solid five minutes before falling asleep and had come to the conclusion that Drenn was a good man. He was not the right man for his sister, but he was a good man all the same. Frowning at the Elf for the remainder of their journey would take far more energy than Fil was willing to give. Instead he had decided that as soon as they were finished with this shard business, he would wave goodbye to Drenn and bustle his sister off to a new adventure. Until then, he hardly thought there would be a moment for Riandr to become overly attached to the Elf. No matter how dark and good looking he was.

Drenn nodded. "My pleasure." He wasn't sure what had changed during the night to cause Fil to return to his natural easy going demeanor, however, Drenn admitted, he was grateful.

"Ready?" Fil gestured to the path that led north.

"Bruca's Leap is this way brother." Riandr pointed to a small path covered in brush.

He stepped onto the path, wondering why his sister hesitated, when he saw them. Elk heads thrust onto spears embedded in the ground. The traditional welcome mat for the Forsworn. "Owww… dung," Fil muttered.

"You ready?" Riandr motioned to his damp robes.

Fil rolled his eyes and grumbled, "As I'll ever be."

Riandr turned to Drenn. "You move east, take the high ground and cover our backs. Fil head west, climb that hill. Can you see that stone ledge?" Fil nodded. "Do your best to climb that and throw any long range spell you have at them. Keep them running, keep them distracted." Fil nodded.

"What are we doing, boss?" Myllian asked anxiously.

Riandr pulled her blades from their sheaths. "We're going to knock on the front door."

Myllian grinned and under her breath murmured, "Yes! I'm good at that." She followed Riandr as the assassin crouched low, using the bushes and rocks of the path to cover their approach. They reached the walls of the redoubt unseen. Bruca's Leap was not large by any standards, but it was surrounded by a wall of sharpened spikes, thick as a man's arm. The single entrance to the redoubt was open, a lone guard stood at the gate. His back was to them, his attention caught by one of his brethren inside the fence. Taking a chance and glancing inside, Riandr could see three small tents and a campfire, a lone empty chair posted next to it. From her position she could not see another Forsworn, though she could hear the guard laughing at another's joke. Turning to Myllian she grumbled, "I can't get a head count. We'll have to wing it."

The warrior nodded. She had no problem with that; she'd spent her whole life winging it. Planning gave her a headache! Riandr gave Fil and Drenn another moment to get into position then she signaled Myllian. The warrior leapt into the camp, swinging her axe. The blade severed the guard's head from his body before he could make a sound. She saw two more Forsworn further up the path, deeper in the camp. They turned to her, for a moment too stunned to move. Then they pulled their swords from their sheaths and ran at her screaming, "For the Forsworn!"

Hidden by brush in the back of the camp was a small cavern entrance. At the sound of the Forsworn's cries the door of the cave burst open, Forsworn spilling from it like coins from a torn sac. Myllian glanced up and caught sight of the warriors, pouring out of the cave opening. She grinned, her heart racing with the thrill of the coming battle. Her glittering axe and warrior cry drew their attention like a magnet. As she spun her blade and decapitated a Forsworn swordsmen she cried, "Gods I _love_ knocking on the front door!"

Riandr slipped into the camp unnoticed, Myllian much too big and noisy a distraction for them to ignore. She worked her way to the tents where those Forsworn who had been sleeping were just stirring. She moved noiselessly from tent to tent, her blades making quick work of them.

Fil stood on his rocky outcropping, grinning. Myllian was amazing, pure grace, skill and power. He watched her axe as it glittered in the sunlight, watched its graceful arcs and powerful thrusts. It wasn't until a tall, powerfully built man rushed undetected toward the warrior's back, that Fil was roused from his admiration. A sharp ice spear formed in his hands as he murmured, "Back away from my warrior!" The spell shot forth, hitting the man in the back, shattering his spine. As more Forsworn rushed toward Myllian Fil let loose spells of lightning and fire, aiming for the brigands before they could reach her.

Drenn found a large Manill tree whose thick limbs had grown over the redoubt walls. Thankful the Forsworn were ridiculously lax in their security, he scurried up the trunk. Climbing out onto a sturdy branch he followed its length until he stood over a small incline in the camp. He had a clear view of the cave mouth and proceeded to take down as many Forsworn as he could. It didn't take long for the enemy to locate him. Their archers immediately turned their attention toward him, shooting volley after volley, attempting to dislodge him from the tree. He avoided their arrows, and began to pick them off, one by one as they exited the cave.

Myllian held her ground surrounded by Forsworn, her axe gleaming. She would admit later that they were strong opponents, but terribly trained. Their swords swung wide, their blades never getting near her. She kept them at arms length with the axe, spinning it left, then right, cutting down one and then another. Out of the corner of her eye could see Fil's bolts of lightning and flame hitting Forsworn, the impact sending the men flying through the air.

They were quickly decimating the camp, Myllian counted only ten Forsworn that now surrounded her. She knew she should quickly end the battle, but she also hated for any warrior to die embarrassed. Allowing them a parry here, and a near miss there she wanted them to feel that they fought honorably, before she killed them. Sadly their attacks were predictable, unimaginative and effortless to parry. When she thought the remaining few had had enough, she waited for them to lunge, timing it just so. As they charged at her she dropped to a crouch and wrapping her arm around the hilt of her axe she focused all her strength in her right arm, swinging the blade in a deadly circle. Dragon's Doom tore through their stomachs, severing them at the spine; they were dead before their bodies hit the dirt.

Myllian stood, panting from the battle and glanced around for her friends. Fil sat on his rocky perch, waving his approval to her. Riandr stood on a ledge directly above her, arms folded a grin on her face. Drenn leapt down from his tree limb, shaking his head. Riandr motioned to Fil to join them and then dropped to the path.

"Well done." She glanced around the camp, counting no less than thirty Forsworn circling the warrior.

"Thanks." Myllian grinned. "Everyone helped," she added encouragingly, not wanting her friends to feel inferior.

Drenn laughed, his ruby eyes sparkling. "Thank you, My. That's kind of you to say."

Fil reached them, panting from his run. "Well done, My!" he said, his admiration evident.

Riandr gestured toward the cave entrance a few yards away. "I think we'll find your sword in there, Myllian. If its still here." Riandr reminded her.

"Oh I know it is. I can feel it!" She promised. They moved to the cave entrance, taking great care to step around the bodies and blood.

Riandr entered first, followed by Myllian, Fil and Drenn. The entrance was narrow as was the tunnel they followed. The walls were solid rock with sharpened spears embedded in the floor and they were forced to move in single file. Lanterns were placed at odd intervals, casting a dim light along the way. After a few moments the tunnel opened up slightly, offering a strange archway. A small bench filled the arch, a lantern and iron dagger placed on top. Riandr motioned to the others to stay put and then worked her way closer to the opening. She could see a large, open room below them. Two platforms lined the northern wall, to the west stood shelving and a table filled with equipment. An alchemy table stood in the northwest corner and a man was bent over this, his attention caught and held by the potion he was crafting. A corpse lay on a table near him, a large gaping hole where its heart used to be.

She gestured to the others, silently describing the room and its occupant. There was an opening in the tunnel to their right. It offered a smaller corridor, light by a single torch. She moved into the tunnel, noiselessly continuing forward. The tunnel meandered, continuing its descent toward the main chamber. At one point it took a sharp left turn, and in the crook a bookshelf leaned against the wall, a small sac of coin resting on a shelf. Fil happily took the sac, expertly placing the coin in his satchel, not making a sound. Riandr rolled her eyes in annoyance, but continued on.

When finally the tunnel ended she paused a moment, giving Myllian's eyes a chance to adjust. Where they stood at the tunnel's mouth the room opened up before them. Though it was dimly lit she could see the room was more or less circular, the walls rough cut stone. Wet with moisture and covered in moss they glistened in the torchlight. Most of the room to their left was lost in darkness however in the faint torch light they could see animal skins, drawn tightly against wooden frames, lining the walls. The skins blocked their view of most of the room, however not far from them stood a woman, her back to them, her attention caught by something they could not yet see.

Again Riandr motioned to the others to stay. Dropping into her crouch, she soundlessly crossed the distance to the Forsworn, Silence pulsing with excitement as she drew near. In one fluid motion she stood, placed her left hand over the woman's mouth, pulled her head back and ran Silence across her throat. As the blade drank the warm blood, she let the Forsworn grow limp in her arms and then placed her gently upon the floor.

From her new position she could clearly see the remainder of the room and what had held the woman's attention. A large platform filled the northern part of the room; it held both the alchemic table and the table upon which the corpse laid. A single beam of sunlight poured through an opening in the ceiling. It fell upon the corpse, making its pale flesh glow with an eerie light. Her new position also allowed Riandr a good view of the man huddled over the alchemic table. His fur armor and elaborate headdress indicated he was the chieftain of this redoubt. Why he had not rushed outside with his clan was a mystery, however the attention he gave the potion he mixed, suggested its importance.

Fil moved to stand next to her, his palm glowing. He motioned to the Forsworn indicating that he was the only life form remaining. Riandr glanced at Drenn, who nodded. He stood and notching a single arrow, let the bolt fly. It hit the man at the base of the skull, severing its connection to his body. With a muffled groan the man slumped forward, dead.

Myllian stood, a little annoyed but trying not to show it. "Nice shot, archer." Drenn hid his grin and then followed Riandr and Fil as they moved up the short flight of steps to the table where the corpse lay.

"He's Forsworn?" Fil said, more as a question than a statement.

Riandr nodded, unable to take her gaze off the cavernous hole where his heart had been.

"They put his heart in a bowl…" Fil pointed to a wooden bowl that indeed held a human heart. "What was he doing?"

"Fil, what's this?" Drenn had turned to the potions table, curious about the concoction the chieftain had been working on. He handed a small bottle to Fil. Tiny and dark purple the vial was warm to the touch.

Fil turned the bottle around, searching its sides, bottom and top for any clues as to its purpose. He lifted the stopper and sniffed, recognizing the scent of juniper berries, hanging moss, Mora Tapinella and something else he couldn't quite identify. He glanced at the corpse, a horrifying and fascinating idea racing through his thoughts.

Riandr recognized the expression on his face. "What is it Fil?"

"If I…" he hesitated, trying to form his fascinating theory into words. "If I wanted to alter someone, make them stronger. Give them almost Daedric speed and invulnerability. I might try something like this."

"Like what, mage?" Myllian's tone had taken on an edge.

"You would need to remove the heart, transform it… then replace it. Suffuse the body with enough magicka to survive the ordeal. See? See how his skin glows? They filled him with so much restore health and magicka and stamina, it's practically replaced his blood! He's not dead he's… suspended, somewhere between life and death. Waiting for his new heart. It's brilliant! Utterly brilliant! And look," he gestured excitedly to the heart, his fascination for what they were doing overriding his revulsion. "Look at the heart! In perfect condition! I think… and I'm only postulating now, that the intent was to immerse the heart in this liquid. The potion would change it somehow, alter it. Make it more than Human, more than Mer even. It would make him almost invulnerable!" Fil was completely enthralled with the process and filled with respect for the Forsworn mages who had created it. It was brilliant! His eyes had begun to glow as he spoke, the Forsworn's magicka unlike anything he had seen before.

"Brother," Riandr's tone was gentle, trying to soften her words. "I think you are frightening our friend."

Fil glanced at her, confused, and then followed her gaze to Myllian's face. The warrior's expression caught Fil completely off guard. If he did not know better he would have sworn Myllian was about to cut his head off. "My?" he asked, "What's wrong?"

The warrior glanced at the corpse and then back at the mage, her voice passionate as she said, "This is Necromancy, mage. Foul and unclean. This man is _dead_ and yet they want to… _replace_ his heart and use magicka to bring him back to life? The man's heart is gone. He is dead! He must stay dead! This is against nature, against all that is holy! In Talos' name I swear all Necromancers and their ilk should be wiped from the face of Tamriel!"

Fil registered the warrior's clenching and unclenching fists, the way her eyes filled with tears as she glanced at the body. His fascination with what the Forsworn were attempting to accomplish faded in the light of Myllian's obvious pain. "My… I would never, ever do anything like this. You must know that. I'm a scholar and these experiments fascinate me. But that's all, My. I have a clinical, detached interest in the 'how' of things, but that doesn't compel me to try them myself."

She glanced at him, her eyes begging him to convince her. "It's like the dragons, Myllian," he almost shouted in his excitement as a perfect comparison came to mind. "I want to know how they are returning and who is doing it. But I don't want to know this so I can resurrect them myself! I need to know so I can try and _stop_ them from being brought back to life."

Myllian took a deep breath, calming her racing heart. She didn't know why she had suddenly attacked the mage. She knew Fil, knew he would never surrender to the darkness. Never offer up his soul in exchange for power over the dead as many mages did. His heart was too good, too kind. So what had overwhelmed her? She truly had no idea. However Fil's argument made sense. There was no denying that it was easier to destroy a thing, if one understood what made it tick. She offered Fil a slightly less teary smile as an olive branch. "Sorry. I guess that makes sense."

Fil nodded; relieved he had helped her understand. Myllian angry at him was something he wanted, with his whole heart, to avoid. She was not only quite scary but, he had to admit, he didn't like it when she was angry with him. He realized with a suddenness that made him blush, it bothered him as much as when Ri was angry at him. Uncertain and a little embarrassed at his sudden need for Myllian's approval he quickly turned the focus away from himself and to her task. "Hey, isn't there something in here your looking for?"

"OH!" Myllian shrieked and moved away from the body, searching for the sword.

Riandr had stepped to the back of the cave, a set of bookshelves catching her attention. They held various alchemic substances, some juniper berries, a saber cat tooth and a tome. She was about to toss the book to her brother when something about the tome's dark brown leather binding and intricate scroll work caught her attention. She turned back the cover and read the title, _A Tragedy in Black, A Tale from the Oblivion Crisis_. Without much thought she began to read and quickly became engrossed in the tale of a young mage who thought to summon a Daedra to help him craft a present for his mother. Of course the tale took a disturbing turn when the Daedra outwitted the boy and after devouring his soul, set off in search of the boy's mother. Riandr closed the book with a sigh, wondering why she had been so obsessed with such a depressing tale. Dealings with Daedra never ended well for mortals.

About to replace the book upon the shelf, she paused as a bizarre thought popped into her head. She had a sudden image of herself at the Enchanter's table, a bow on the table before her. She held a spell of fire in one hand, one of ice in the other. With a strange clarity she saw herself combining the spells, fusing them into the bow. With a suddenness that was overwhelming she realized she could do it! In fact it was quite easy! All she needed was a soul gem of sufficient power, complete focus and precision!

"You all right?" Fil could have sensed her excitement even if he had been in Cyrodiil.

"I'm fine. I just… I just had an epiphany!" Riandr laughed.

Glancing at the tome in her hands, he raised an eyebrow and asked with a mocking tone, "Oh… finally read a book, did you?"

"Brat." She hit him with the tome and then handed it to him. "It's a good one, you should read it."

"Ah ha!" Myllian's cry startled them. "I've found it!"

Riandr and Fil raced to her side, Drenn already with her. In a dark corner of the room, tucked away beneath a rocky overhang sat a chest. It was large, wooden and covered in ornate metal scrolls that curled along its corners and panels like ivy covers a building. Riandr checked the sides and back for traps but found none. The chest was locked however and she gladly reached for her picks, slipping them in the keyhole. Myllian stood behind her, barely breathing as she worked the lock, each soft click of a bolt reverberating through the silent cavern like an explosion. When the last bolt clicked into place, she stood back and motioned to Myllian that it was safe to lift the lid.

The warrior hesitated for a moment, completely aware of what she was about to do. The sword of Hjalti, Tiber Septim, Talos. To see the sword of the man who would unite all of Tamriel and become her god. To touch the sword that helped him carve out his future. She would hold the blade that he used to unite all the lands under one rule. Well, she had to admit, it was probably not _the blade_, as he lost it here, at the start of it all. But it was a blade, a blade that Talos had wielded to vanquish the Forsworn and capture his first victory. And she was to hold it, to carry it for a time and then return it to the one it was promised to. For return it to the spectral warrior she would. To do any less would dishonor Talos and even upon death she would not do such a thing.

Slowly, and with great reference, she lifted the lid of the chest. There, on top of a few other trinkets lay the sword. It was dark, made of ebony. It had a curved hilt in the old Nordic style. One end bent in a sharpened spike, the other seemed to her to be the face of a dragon, its mouth open and its teeth sharp and deadly. The blade itself was as long as her arm, its edge was straight and sharp on one side, a double notch engraved at the tip of the other. Graceful scroll work ran up the flat of the blade, gleaming silver against the black ebony. It was light in her hand, not even half the weight of her axe. She stepped back from the group and gripping the hilt gently, swung the blade in an arc, watching in fascination as it sliced through the air.

Fil reached into the chest, ransacking the remaining loot. A good sum of gold littered the chest floor along with an Elven dagger, a tome and a copper and emerald circlet. Riandr picked up the dagger, handing it to Drenn and with a mocking sigh said, "I may have no long range skills but your single iron dagger is depressing. Take this."

Drenn took the dagger from her, admiring its sharp blade and intricate Elven design. "It glows blue."

"That particular blue indicates a spell to incite fear. You will find many of your enemies will flee for a moment, when you show your blade to them."

"Handy." Drenn grinned as he tucked the blade through his belt.

After glancing through the tome Fil tossed it back into the chest. "Illegible," he grumbled. The circlet however made him grin. It sparkled, brilliant green in the dim light. Though he wasn't the enchanter his sister was, he knew how to recognize an archery enchantment when he saw one. This would fetch a nice price. With his treasure secured he turned his attention back to Myllian. She stood in the single ray of sunlight, letting the blade catch and reflect the sun, mesmerized by its design.

"Myllian," Fil laughed. "There's more sunlight outside. What do you say we take the blade out there and see it really sparkle?"

The warrior nodded and then headed for the tunnel, still in a daze. Riandr and Drenn followed her discussing the best way to set out for Vol'vahlok from here. With Myllian gone, Fil took a moment to check the corpses for loot. The body on the table held a few coins, but naught else. He decided to focus his attention on the dead leader instead. When he rolled the chieftain over, exposing his chest he wasn't surprised to find his heart had been removed and a new mutated organ filled the cavity. He used his dagger to cut the heart loose from the sinew that had been sewn over the hole, securing the heart in place. With a twinge of guilt he also took the human heart from the bowl. He knew Myllian wouldn't understand, but he had to study this. Had to understand why and how and what it did for the Forsworn. He shoved the hearts into his satchel along with the strange little vial. Myllian was not a student, a gifted and skilled warrior yes, but not a scholar. She was horrified by Necromancy, which was understandable; however he wasn't sure this qualified as Necromancy. At the moment the man on the table was shoved so full of potions that for all intents and purposes he was still alive, hovering between life and death, waiting for his new heart. The man would die eventually, the potions he imbued eventually wearing off.

Fil glanced at the corpse, his eyes filled with regret. "I am sorry," he murmured. "I don't know how to save you." Stepping away from the corpse he reminded himself that the forsworn was, for all intents and purposes, already dead. Plus he couldn't stem his excitement at the thought of new research. Whatever they were doing here, whatever form of magic the Forsworn were practicing, his equals at the College would understand his fascination and hopefully aid him in his research.

The others had already left the tunnel, so he rushed through the rocky channel, suddenly anxious to be out of the darkness. As he burst through the entrance he was surprised to find the three of them standing at the doorway, motionless, staring at the sky. "What's wrong?" he asked, then followed their gaze to the west. There, flying in a circle above the path they needed to take, hunting some unseen annoyance flew a dragon. It drew back its head and let out a vicious and deafening roar, then shot forth a spray of ice, dousing whatever had caught its attention on the ground.

"Ah… dung," Fil groaned.

"We could try to avoid it. Work our way further north, then cut over," Drenn offered.

Riandr shook her head, her gaze never leaving the dragon. "It would add too much time; we've already lost too much coming here." She glanced at Myllian and added, "Not that it wasn't worth it."

"Thanks, boss." She stabbed the sword at an invisible foe, trying to adjust to its lighter weight. "So what's the plan?"

"Being late for the party might be better than showing up dead, sis." Fil sighed, knowing she would ignore him.

Riandr turned to Drenn, ignoring her brother. "If its attention stays on whatever it hunts, we may stand a chance at hitting it unawares. We could move north a short ways, surround it, attack it from that under the rocky outcropping Fil used earlier."

Drenn nodded. "I could climb the hillock, attack it from there and draw its attention."

"Good lord, Elf," Riandr grumbled, "now you've been spending too much time with Myllian! That's suicide."

He stared at Riandr, annoyed. "Why do you underestimate me, woman? I said draw its attention not stand there like an amateur and be turned into an icicle."

"Well how would you avoid that?" Riandr demanded, frustrated. She moved further out into the redoubt, pointing to the open hill. "You'd be completely exposed on that hillock, totally vulnerable. Where would you go for cover?"

"I had a plan," Drenn followed her; his response louder than he intended, his anger at her misjudgment of him causing him to lose his temper. "It wouldn't be difficult for Fil to throw a ward over me, as long as he was under the safety of the overhang. I could work around the ward, use it for cover and then shoot when I was able."

Riandr turned to Drenn, furious at his willingness to, in her eyes, throw his life away. "How is Fil supposed to keep a ward over you and ready his fire balls and flame? He cannot perform three spells simultaneously. No mage can! Everyone knows that!"

"I wasn't suggesting he would!" Drenn stared at her, his anger spilling over into fury. Why was she so angry with him? He was the one being misjudged here! She was the one who kept underestimating his abilities. What did she think he was, an idiot? "I simply felt that an initial attack, with Fil using his wards…"

"Uh… hey guys…" Fil tried to interrupt them.

"as a temporary shield to allow me…"

"Drenn… Ri…" Fil's tone grew more insistent.

"the opportunity to get at least a few bolts into the beast before…."

"Ri!" Fil screamed at her.

"What?" They both turned to him, furious.

"It heard you and it doesn't like when mommy and daddy fight," Fil said softly, pointing to the west. The dragon had ceased its circling and dropped to the ground, perched on the very hillock they were arguing about, staring at them. It was too far away for its ice breath to cause them damage, but any chance of a surprise attack was now forfeit.

"Ah… dung," Riandr muttered under her breath.

"Back in the cave?" Fil whispered hopefully.

Riandr shook her head. "I have the feeling it would simply wait. We cannot afford that." She glanced around the terrain before them. The hillock upon which the dragon sat was the only cover offered as far as the eye could see. The only direction she was uncertain about was east as the wall of the redoubt blocked her view of the land in that direction.

"There's a gap there, boss, in the wall." Myllian, following her gaze pointed to a two foot wide space between the sharpened spikes.

Riandr nodded. "We head east; find an outcropping, overhang, a damn pile of rocks, anything for cover. Then…" she added hesitantly, "we try Drenn's plan."

The Dark Elf turned to her, surprised. "It's a good plan, Drenn. It's just that I don't like the thought of you…" she turned to the opening, unwilling to finish her thought. "Prepare yourselves people. You know what you need to do gentlemen. Wound it, weaken it. Force it to land so Myllian and I can finish it off."

The dragon, growing tired of watching them, was distracted by a small deer as, in shear terror; it tried to leap away from the beast. The dragon drew its breath and with a loud roar shot forth a twenty foot long column of bitter cold air. The blast caught the deer in mid leap, freezing it solid. It fell to the ground with an ominous thud.

"RUN!" Riandr managed to shout, shoving her fear into the dark recesses of her mind. As one they raced forward, covering the distance between them and the opening in the wall in less than a heart beat. The terrain opened up before them, offering little in the way of cover or shelter. The ground was covered in grass and small shrubs, a ledge of rock rose here and there. Not too far from them a group of boulders formed a gulley of sorts. It reminded Riandr of the narrow streets of Falkreath and instantly a plan formed. If they could lure the dragon there, it would be unable to use its wings, unable to take flight. As they raced forward she glanced at Drenn and with a grin realized he had had a similar idea. The sound of the waterfall was loud here, its thunderous echo drowning out even the dragon's roar. A few small rocky outcroppings in the gulley would hold one or two of them, but their only chance of survival would be to split up.

With a glance at his sister, Fil followed Drenn. He had to be close to Drenn to cast his ward. Besides they would be casting spells and shooting arrows at the beast, bringing it down for Myllian and Riandr to jump from the shadows and finish it off. It made sense to split up. Even so, Fil's heart was heavy as he left his sister's side and joined Drenn under their tiny outcropping.

Riandr ducted under an overhang, pulling Myllian in with her. The warrior desperately wanted to leap from their spot and growl at the dragon. The fury in her friend's eyes seemed particularly bright and Riandr glanced at the sword she carried. Her heart skipped a beat as she noticed the sword was glowing. Coruscating colors of red, blue and green raced up and down the blade. She had never seen an enchantment like it. She knew the blade had not glowed like that in the cave; it was almost as if Myllian's excitement over the coming battle with the dragon, or the dragon itself caused the affect.

The beast's terrible roar echoed over the rocks above them and she decided the sword's mystery could wait a few minutes. Drenn and Fil had taken shelter in an overhang twenty feet from them. She watched as they prepared themselves and then felt her body go numb as the drum of the dragon's wings caused the ground to shake. It circled their hiding spots, searching from the air for its missing prey. She saw Drenn nod to Fil and then they both leapt from their overhang. Fil placed his hands together, the fiery blaze he held in each combining, forming one incredibly powerful fireball. He released his spell and the fireball shot forth, hitting the dragon on its right flank. Drenn let loose a volley of arrows, each one bursting into flame and hitting the dragon, piercing his scaly hide. The beast roared in pain and shot a burst of ice at the spot where Fil and Drenn had stood, but they had already darted under the cover of a nearby ledge.

The dragon continued to circle overhead, bellowing its rage. Fil prepared his fireball spell again, Drenn his bow and as the beast drew near they repeated their attack, ducking for cover before the dragon could turn its icy breath upon them. It took two more attacks before the dragon faltered, the beating of its wings becoming less steady.

Myllian stood next to Riandr, her patience growing thin. All she needed was a chance, one moment when the dragon drew close. She held the sword lightly, the hilt feeling as if it had been made for her. In her passion to destroy the beast she could have sworn she heard the blade speak to her, urging her to kill the dragon.

Drenn motioned to Fil to be ready. He could hear the change in the dragon's flight, could sense his prey was weakening. He nodded to Riandr to be ready. The purpose of his stepping into the open and catching the dragon's attention would be to lure it onto the ground, get it to land in the rocky gulley they were in, trap it there so they could destroy it. With a nod to Fil he stepped out into the open and let loose his bolt. It soared through the air and caught the dragon immediately below its left eye. The beast turned on the Elf and Drenn let fly another arrow. This one pierced the dragon's eye, causing it to roar in pain. It continued forward, flying over Drenn, ice pouring from its gaping maw. But Fil had already erected his ward over Drenn and the dragon's icy breath bounced off the magical shield, spilling onto the ground. Again the beast roared, this time in frustration. It circled the gulley, flying low enough to breathe a bitter wind on the Elf and again Fil's ward foiled its attempt to freeze Drenn solid. As it circled around for another shot Drenn stepped out from beneath the ward, sending another volley of burning arrows to embed themselves in the dragon's side.

Drenn stepped back under the protection of Fil's ward, egging the dragon on. "Come beast! Come and get me! I'm right here!" he taunted.

The dragon oriented on the Elf. It beat its wings slower and with less power, flying closer to the ground as a result. It snapped it jaws as it began its next approach and Drenn had the distinct impression the beast had decided to try another tactic. The Elf waited beneath the ward, wondering if this was the moment it would falter, if it would finally sink to the ground in reach of Riandr's daggers and Myllian's axe. As it crossed the distance between them some part of Drenn's mind registered that it was not slowing and that its huge jaw, the opening as large as a small horse, was heading straight for him. He stared at the beast's maw as it raced toward him, fascinated.

Riandr's eyes grew wide in fear. Why wasn't he moving? Unable to stop herself, her heart in her throat, she shot out from the overhang and dove straight into Drenn, knocking him onto the ground. They lay there unmoving for a fraction of a second as the beast flew over them, its jaws snapping at the now empty air where Drenn had been.

It was more than Myllian could bear. With her warrior's cry bursting from her she leapt from under the rocky overhang, racing after the beast. The dragon sailed through their gulley, the rocky walls confining it, preventing it from spreading its wings. It was no more than a hundred yards to where the ground dropped off suddenly, falling away to the rushing river a hundred feet below. The dragon, unable to open its wings, curled over the edge, falling out of sight. With a strangled cry Myllian raised her sword and leapt off the cliff, disappearing from view.

"_Myllian_! _No_!" Riandr jumped to her feet and raced after her friend. Fil and Drenn followed, horrified. It took only a moment to reach the cliff's edge, their hearts in their throats as they were certain to find their friend splayed against the rocks below.

Instead they found Myllian sitting upon the dragon's neck, almost exactly as Riandr had not a few weeks before. The beast, now able to open its wings, tried to gain the advantage, beating its wings to get some height. But Drenn's arrows and Fil's spells had taken their toll and the animal, weakened and disoriented, could barely keep itself aloft. Myllian raised the sword of Hjalti above her head, both hands gripping the hilt and then with a cry drove the blade into the beast's skull. It roared its pain and anger, shaking its head, trying to dislodge the warrior. Myllian gripped tightly to the blade, twisting it as fast as she could, scrambling the dragon's brain. Dead but not yet aware of it, the dragon began to drop, its wings still outspread.

"My…" Fil whispered and then turned away, too horrified to watch his friend's certain plummet toward the rushing waters and death.

As she slowly began to drift toward the river, Myllian was suddenly acutely aware of her predicament. She was sitting on the neck of a dead dragon, a few hundred feet above a raging river, a thunderous waterfall to her back and nothing but miles of canyon walls on either side. Leaping off the dragon was not an option; not only would the fall kill her, but Hjalti's sword was buried deep in its skull and she had no intention of leaving the blade behind. She yanked on the hilt, trying to loosen the sword from the dragon's skull. It would not budge, but as she pulled it to the right she noticed the dragon began to list, ever so slightly to the right.

She glanced quickly to both sides; the beast's wings had remained outstretched, frozen as they were at the moment of his death. It suddenly occurred to her that instead of dropping like a stone, she was gliding slowly, the dragon's wings buffeted by the air as it rose in gusts from the force of the waterfall and the river below. She pressed harder on the blade, forcing the dragon's head left and then right, gauging the beast's response. When she moved the dragon's head with her blade, its body would slowly respond in kind. She quickly got a feel for the movement, steering the dragon's slowly dropping form with the grace of a cart on a snowy road. When a large patch of open beach offered itself, she thrust the blade to the left and aimed the beast toward it.

As she gently glided toward shore, a gust of air splashed spray against her. The ice cold water tingled against her skin and she burst into laughter, suddenly aware of what she was doing. By the gods! She was flying atop a dragon! Atop a dragon! Who in Tamriel could say they had done as much? Pulling her hands from the sword for a moment she raised them above her head and let out a warrior's cry that echoed off the river's rocky channel, echoing for miles. Turning to the cliff and her friends, she waved triumphantly, wishing with all her heart they were on the dragon with her.

Riandr stared at the warrior, mesmerized by the sight.

"In all of my years I have never seen such a thing," Drenn murmured as he returned her wave.

At the sound of Myllian's cry Fil turned back toward the river and his friend. It was then he saw her, her armor glittering in the sun, her expression one of complete joy as she rode the dragon to a beach below them, whooping in victory as it dropped to the sand with a loud thud, shaking the ground beneath their feet.

"She's… she's not dead," he murmured in amazement.

"No, she is not," Riandr replied, unable to keep the wonder from her voice.

"She is… remarkable." Fil almost gasped as his heart started beating again. He could not have described how he felt, as he watched Myllian dive off the cliff. It was as if his entire body had simply stopped. No heart beat, no breath, no life. He had, for those few moments, simply died. Then suddenly, there she was alive and well and life returned to him with a rush that was almost too painful to bear.

"Boss," Myllian yelled from the beach below them, her grin more brilliant than the sun. "I'm going to gather some bone and hide and then I'll be up."

"Will you be riding the dragon up, warrior?" Riandr shouted back, teasing her friend.

Myllian laughed. "Maybe! But there's also a little goat path here I might follow instead."

"All right. We'll come down, give you a hand." When Fil made a strangled sound, Riandr turned to him. "Are you all right, brother?"

Fil stepped away from the cliff's edge and dropped to the ground. Covering his eyes with his hands, his voice shaky he asked, "Is this what it's like? Being my sister? Is this what I do to you?"

Riandr snorted. "Yes, little brother. It is exactly like this."

"By the gods, sis," Fil whispered, "how do you manage it?"

"I drink a lot of mead." Riandr knelt and wrapped her arms around him. "You know I wouldn't change a hair on your head, right?"

Fil sighed and pulled his hands from his face. "I know and for what it's worth, thank you... again."

Drenn continued to stare at the warrior below as she worked the sword of Hjalti from the dragon's skull and then set about cutting scales and hide from its corpse. In all his years he had never imagined he would witness Man or Mer… ride a dragon! The beast had been dead at the time, true. But still, she had leapt from the cliff, unwilling or unable to break free from the hunt. Killed the beast and then flown its drifting corpse to safety. If he had not seen it with his own eyes, he would never have believed the tale. Though she did not have the skill or intellect of the Elves, this woman, this _Redguard_ had to be one of the most fearless warriors he had ever met.

"You all right, Drenn?" Riandr asked.

He nodded, keeping his gaze on the woman below. "She will join her brethren in Sovngarde one day. There is no doubt of that."

'Please,' Fil, his heart frozen at the thought of losing her to those hallowed halls, prayed to the fates for the first time in his life. 'Let that day be sometime far, far in the future.'

"Up you go, brother." Riandr grabbed his hand and pulled him from the ground. "We need to give Myllian a hand." When he groaned she winked at him and added, "Besides, there may be some nice trinkets in the belly of that beast."

"Ah, Ri," Fil laughed, his strength returning in direct proportion to his piqued interest. "You always know just what to say."


	23. Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Two

It was midday by the time they had stripped and gutted the dragon. They decided to have their meal on the beach. Myllian, still filled with the wonder of her flight, spent the time describing the experience in detail for them. Fil lay on the warm sand, unwilling to take his eyes off the Redguard. Drenn wandered the beach, his thoughts on his grandfather and what the man might have thought about this fascinating band of humans he now called friends.

Riandr kept an eye on the sun and when her anxiety over the lateness of the day grew too strong she had them gather their things. Fil offered to carry his knapsack but Myllian declined. The dragon bone and hide had fit nicely into it and she knew it was now much too heavy for Fil to carry. So instead he offered her a potion, which when supped increased her natural strength to the point the pack felt almost weightless. She had thanked him by suggesting he might on the rare occasion, prove useful.

It took them longer than Riandr would have liked to work their way back up the goat path and cross the distance to the Forsworn camp. Scavengers, wolves and carrion birds, fought over the Forsworn corpses. Drenn made short work of those beasts that pulled themselves away from a free meal and tried to attack them. At the lake shore they took the path west. It was well traveled, bracketed on each side with rocky ledges. The sun was high over head and they were in a jovial mood as they crested the first hill. Their easy banter came to an abrupt halt when they were met by the sight of an empty dragon mound. Instinctively reading their weapons, they desperately searched the sky. It took a moment for them to register the stillness around them. They waited, bracing themselves for an attack. As the silence lengthened they began to relax.

The circular hole was rimmed by carved stone and deep enough to bury a dragon. Riandr moved forward and on a whim, jumped into the empty burial mound. She squatted in the dirt, running her hand over the warm sand.

Fil stood by the lip of the hole, looking down at her, shaking his head. "You call me foolish."

Riandr shrugged. "I'm curious. This is the first time we have come across a dragon and his previous resting place. This empty burial mound does eliminate any other option but that the dragons are being resurrected. This was probably the resting place of Myllian's dragon. He did come from this direction. Aren't you curious if there is some magicka residue, some indication of who is bringing our dragon friends back to life?"

Fil glared at her. "What am I, a first level apprentice? I don't have to touch a thing to know it holds magicka."

Riandr raised an eyebrow. "Well then, does it?"

"Yes," Fil sighed and then squatted by the rim, running his hand over the dirt. "But in small, minute traces. More like the memory of magicka."

"The memory?"

Fil nodded. "Think of it as similar to mother's fish casserole. How even two days after she cooked it, you could still smell it in the house."

Riandr could not stop the laugh that burst from her. "Not my favorite memory of her."

Brushing dirt off one of the rimstones, Fil chuckled. "Nor mine. But it is a good explanation of how magicka works. Look at these stones, Ri. They each hold a marking."

She moved to the rim, tracing the markings on three different stones. "I can't tell what they are, all the stones are cracked or scared."

"Must have happened when the dragon was resurrected. It's odd though."

"Why is that?"

"They look… familiar somehow."

"Perhaps they are ancient Aldmeri? Can't you read that language?"

"Yes…" Fil said distractedly, tracing the outline of one side of an image.

"Well, brother, as interesting as this is, we need to get moving." Riandr reached out and let Fil pull her from the hole.

As she wiped the dirt from her gloves Fil gestured to the empty mound and asked, "Was it everything you thought it would be?"

Riandr grinned. "Well, it was most likely a great deal more enjoyable for me than it was for the dragon."

Shaking his head Fil murmured, "Now I think _you've_ spent too much time with me."

Drenn gestured to the path heading north. It wound its way up the hillside, disappearing into the forest. "We will have to leave the road here, head west."

Riandr nodded. "West toward Vol'vahlok it is." The terrain was rocky and uneven, the ground covered in soft grass and moss. An occasional juniper tree found purchase on a rocky ledge. It didn't take long before they descended into a valley where a small river flowed east and added its strength to the lake they had crossed, before it tumbled down the waterfalls. They decided to follow the river; certain it had begun its journey high in the mountains of the Reach. Those mountains rose above them on all sides, rocky and majestic, their peaks were snow covered and sparkled in the midday sun. Vol'vahlok was nestled in the base of those mountains. Half way between the Dwemer city Bthardamz and the Orc fortress called Mor Khazgur, it burrowed into the mountainside. It would take them what remained of the day to reach its isolated home.

Drenn followed Riandr closely, watching her solemn expression as they moved. It startled him that after such a short time with her, he could read her expressions so well. He knew what she was thinking by the way she bit her lower lip, how she kept flexing and un-flexing her hands. She was working out a plan and he knew she would not accept any plan that did not protect all of them. He was aware that Fil might be accustomed to handing his sister the reigns of his life, however Drenn was not. Besides, he hated to see how the burden wore on her.

"You might want to share the details with us," he prodded.

"Details?" Fil glanced from Riandr to Drenn. "She's still thinking."

"This battle is not hers alone, mage. All of our lives, all of Tamriel may hang in the balance. Each of us should offer our thoughts."

"Riandr has the sharpest mind in all of…" Fil started but a wave of her hand brought his tirade to a halt.

"Drenn's right, brother. I admit I do not know the layout of Vol'vahlok. I cannot plan a trap for the boy if I do not know what we will encounter. All I know is that at some point he will snatch the shard. Do we move then? Take it from him? Or try to escape him in the tomb and take the shard for ourselves? Or would it be better to wait until we have left the tomb, try to take it from him on the road?"

"The road may be tricky," Drenn murmured.

"Yes. And though I cannot explain it, I have a gut feeling that we should take the shard from him inside the tomb. I get the distinct impression that once he gets the shard he will do his utmost to dispose of us. Either kill us or simply leave us in the tomb to rot."

"Agreed." Drenn nodded and then added, "So, should we allow him to take the shard?"

"I could just kill him, when we meet up with him," Myllian offered.

"_No_!" Riandr cried, coming to an abrupt halt. They turned to her, surprised by her intense response. "We cannot kill him!"

"Well I know we might not be able to, sis," Fil said, his confusion over her bizarre outburst evident. "But we could try."

"No. We cannot… kill the boy." Riandr repeated. 'But why?' she asked herself. Why couldn't they kill the boy? Why was she suddenly, absolutely certain they should not kill him? That to kill him would be to invite devastation on a scale they could not imagine. "I just… you must believe me. We cannot kill him. No matter how much we may desire to do so. He must… live." She turned to each of them, her eyes begging them to accept what she said without question, for in her heart she knew she had no explanation for it. She simply knew it to be true.

It took less than a heartbeat for Fil to nod. "All right. Boy lives. Besides, he's probably immortal, my warrior friend. I'm not sure if even Dragon's Doom could kill a god."

Myllian sighed and then glanced at the sword attached to her belt. Dragon's Doom may not, but could the sword of a god, kill a god? In the deep recesses of her mind Myllian could have sworn she heard a soft voice answer, "Yes."

Riandr took a deep breath, calming herself and then moved forward again, thanking Sithis that her friends believed in her. "I am also uncertain if we need him to release the shard."

"What do you mean?" Fil asked.

"I know he needs us to get _to_ the shards, but it is also possible that the shard can only be released _by_ him. That would make it vital we get him to the shard and allow him to take it."

"What about just leaving the shard? We can lure the boy deep into Vol'vahlok and trap him with it?" Myllian suggested.

Riandr shook her head. "I am uncomfortable with the thought of the boy and the shard being locked up together. If he is immortal that would give him eternity to gather the shard and find a way out. With that much time at his disposal I am certain he would succeed."

"Still want to cut his head off," Myllian growled. When Riandr glanced at her Myllian raised her hands in submission, "But I won't! I promise!"

"You promise?" Ri asked, pleading with her friend.

Myllian paused for a moment. She could see doubt in Riandr's eyes, doubt that she could hold to her vow, doubt that when the moment came, she could control herself. For a moment Myllian was furious with her friend. How could Riandr doubt her? Then a sudden rush of images overwhelmed her. Her bloodlust filled her as she saw herself react to the forsworn, the werewolf, the dragon and her constant battles with herself for control over her warrior nature. She turned from her friend, understanding her apprehension and ashamed that her very nature gave Riandr concern.

"My?" Riandr whispered.

Myllian took a deep breath and then turned back to Riandr. Placing a hand over her heart she tried to grin reassuringly and said, "Riandr, in Talos' name and on my honor as a Nord, I promise you. I will not kill the boy."

Riandr's smile was filled with relief. "Thank you, my warrior friend."

Drenn could not have described what had just happened, but it was obvious to everyone that something had transpired between the two women. Instead of attempting to understand women, he tried to capsulate what they had covered. "So we cannot kill him, we _may_ need him to get the shard and once he does we cannot allow him to leave the tomb. That means we need to snatch the shard from him after he takes it and before he reaches the exit."

"There wasn't much time in-between those two events in the last tomb," Fil said despondently.

"It might also help if we knew what he and Gian have been doing." Riandr pondered. "It might be worthwhile, Fil, if you tried to separate her from the boy. See if she can update us as to what they have been up to."

Fil shrugged. "I'll try but I'm not certain that will be possible. You remember how she was at Xarthias, she wouldn't leave his side."

Riandr nodded. The healer had grown strangely attached to the boy, separating them might prove to be impossible. For a moment Riandr's heart clouded over. She had hired the healer. At the boy's request yes, however she had chosen the woman, had seen her skill on occasion, heard talk of her at the temples. She was well respected and loved by all she came in contact with. She was a shining light in a dark world and Riandr had thought that quality was exactly what the boy was looking for. Now she realized with a sudden sharp pain to her heart, that if the healer had formed an attachment to the boy, she may not be able to separate them and if that were true then trapping the boy in the tomb would mean trapping the healer as well. If Gian refused to leave the boy then they would leave her there, there was nothing for it. The fate of Skyrim, the fate of Tamriel hung in the balance. But the thought made Riandr sick to her stomach.

They fell silent for a moment as if the same thought occurred to them all, then Fil murmured distractedly, "I may have a spell. One of my embedded runes."

Riandr glanced at him, one eyebrow raised inquisitively. "What does it do?"

"It's a portal spell. I created it myself actually," he added proudly.

"But what does it do, brother?"

"It opens a doorway."

"Isn't that what we're trying to prevent?" Myllian smirked.

"Not to Oblivion, _Dragonrider_," Fil scoffed. "But to anywhere in Tamriel."

Riandr stopped in her tracks. "To anywhere… in Tamriel?"

Fil nodded. "I only created two scrolls. They drained me of all my magicka for most of a month. I tried one shortly after I designed the spell. Opened up a doorway right into the Markarth treasury." He chuckled at the memory. "Only problem was the door is one way. You can go through it but you can't reenter it. Got stuck in the treasury! So after pocketing a few bars of silver, and sneaking out of the treasury, I had to work my way back to Winterhold."

"How do you decide where the door opens?" Drenn stared at the mage, intrigued. Fil was a cheerful character, often distracted, lost in thought. Drenn suddenly realized that it was foolish of him to mistake that for simplicity.

"I picture the place in my mind as I read the scroll. Simple really," Fil added proudly.

"You designed a spell… that creates a portal… to anywhere in Tamriel," Riandr repeated.

Fil sighed. He loved his sister but she was always underestimating him. "Yes, Ri. What I thought was we could use it after we grab the shard from the boy. I could take us to Winterhold, or Solitude. Right to the coast! We could grab a ship and be far out on the Sea of Ghosts before the boy realizes we've gone!"

"That might work, Fil! Though that still leaves the boy able to pursue us," Drenn growled. "And we know he will."

Riandr turned to her brother. "Fil… do you happen to have a spell similar to the one you used in Xarthias?"

Fil thought for a moment and then smiled. "I do. Not like my portal to Oblivion mind you. But an explosive that is just as powerful."

"_Your_ portal to Oblivion?" Drenn sputtered.

"Long story, I'll tell you later," Fil murmured.

"Then this is the plan. We collapse the tomb," Riandr stated. "We let him lead us to the shard and when he has it, we take it from him. Fil then releases his explosions and creates his portal and we leave the boy in Vol'vahlok, trapped."

They were silent for a moment, digesting this. It was a simple, straightforward plan that was, in all likelihood, going to be impossible to accomplish. But for now, it was the only plan they had.

"And Gian?" Myllian asked.

"We take her with us, if we can," Riandr replied.

"Don't worry, boss. I'll get her." Myllian patted Riandr on the shoulder, knowing her friend and so knowing exactly how horrified Riandr would be to leave the girl behind.

Their plan in place they continued on, moving swiftly along the southern bank. It was not a difficult hike as the land surrounding the river was lush, filled with juniper trees, green grass and a few fattened mountain goats. Drenn found his hands itching to hunt a prey less troublesome than a dragon. A few Dwemer arches dotted the northern bank but Riandr refused to allow Fil time to explore. They had lost too much of the day for random looting. They were not surprised when they came upon distinct signs of a Forsworn presence. This part of the Reach was littered with them. They crouched low as they passed the path that led to their camp. Lined with stretched animal skins and adorned with the spiked heads of both animals and their enemies, Riandr had to restrain Myllian from rushing the camp. She was not surprised to find the sword of Hjalti ablaze in color, its spells egging the warrior on. Fil's quietly applied spell of calming helped control the Redguard.

The rocky shore they followed began to climb. The grass and small brush turned to rocky ledges and outcroppings. They scurried over these like mountain goats. Small waterfalls dotted the river now, their sound almost deafening. A large black bear roared at them from the opposite bank but they ignored him. Even if he attempted to cross the river and harass them the now deadly swift current would sweep him away. He appeared to be aware of this and stayed where he was, waving his paws in warning and growling at them in frustration.

When a path appeared along the rocky shoreline Drenn suggested they follow it. It led west for a short time and then turned abruptly south. They left it then, working their way through a small channel in the rocky foothills. The passage was tight, the rock walls rising twenty feet above them. They were forced to travel single file, a situation which did not sit well with any of them. However the path kept on a westerly direction and other than a scattering of falling rock they made it through unmolested.

When they broke free from the tunnel they were surprised to find a Dwemer bridge ahead of them. Twin circular shelters sat on each side of the river, a stone bridge spanning the distance between them. Circular and made of grey stone, their Dwarven metal roofs glistened like copper in the setting sun. The fading light warmed the rocky structure, illuminating the graceful metal scrollwork that covered the stones like ivy. They paused for a moment, each of them awed by the beauty in the ancient Dwemer bridge.

They climbed the stone steps leading into the small tower and began to work their way across the bridge. At its mid-section, it offered a small platform that jutted out over the rushing river. Riandr moved to the spot, wondering at the thousands of years that had fallen away since it had been used as a sentry post. Dwemer guards had stood on that spot, staring out across the river, the foothills and the world beyond, guarding the Dwemer against… what?

"It's an eerie feeling," Drenn said softly as he joined her.

Riandr glanced at him. "What?"

"Even here, so far from my home." He pointed to the structure and the platform they stood upon. "This would have been enemy territory to me, if I had lived before the advent of the Tribunal. My people, still the Chimer then, were locked with the Dwemer in an endless battle. The Dwemer yet lived and Vivec, Almalexia, Sotha Sil were still Mer. Powerful Elves true, but not yet the gods they would become."

"What happened? To the Dwemer?"

Drenn sighed. "The final battle took place in Morrowind, over four thousand years ago. Legend says The Ageless Battle was drawing to a close. Nerevar, Vivec and his companions had breached the Red Mountain; all was lost for the Dwemer. And then…"

"And then what?" Riandr asked encouragingly.

"Then the Dwemer, in their arrogance and desperation to either save their race or destroy mine no one knows for sure, activated a device of such magic, such power that it took every Dwemer in Tamriel."

"Taken?"

"Took them, killed them, no one is certain. But in an instant every Dwemer on Nirn, disappeared. Leaving behind their books and machines, their treasures, their cups, forks and knives. Everything as it was at the moment of their disappearance."

Riandr nodded. She had searched Dwemer ruins in the past, had seen how eerily everything had been left as if their owners would return at any moment. "Your people have no idea what happened to them? Where they went?"

Drenn shook his head. "No more than yours."

"I believe the prevailing theory is they still exist, but on a different plane," Fil offered. "Some of my research has led me to believe they could move from plane to plane easily enough before the 'accident' at Red Mountain. Some theorize that they simply escaped. They saw the war was reaching its end and as it would not end well for them, they ran. The entire race just up and left."

"Impossible," Myllian scoffed.

Fil shrugged. "Only offering up what I've read."

"What do you think, Fil?" Drenn stepped off the platform, his tone curious.

Fil paused a moment. He was flattered that Drenn asked, but also keenly aware that his theory wasn't particularly complimentary to the Dunmer or the Tribunal. He decided to omit his thoughts on how the Chimer/Dunmer arrogance, as copious as the Dwemers, had played into the disappearance of the Dwemer and settled on offering a less volatile version. "Well… I believe it was an accident. I don't believe the Dwemer intended to disappear. They were master craftsman and brilliant scientist. To many of the races their constructs were so amazing they were branded blasphemous, an affront to the gods themselves. It was no secret that the Dwemer held a fundamental belief that they were equal to the gods themselves. It's generally agreed that this arrogance was part of what led to their downfall. However, it's my belief that they intended to send the _Chimer_ to another plane and the attempt, well… backfired."

Drenn placed a hand on Fil's shoulder, fascinated by the mage's theory. "I never considered… never thought of that. It's brilliant though! Fascinating."

Fil grinned proudly. He respected Drenn and his Elven heritage. Happy as he was that Drenn hadn't scoffed at his theory, he was doubly glad he hadn't put his foot in his mouth as he usually did. It was also just as well that he had not mentioned the Ashlander mythos and their belief that the Tribunal had murdered their king for godhood. Even though he wasn't certain how Drenn felt about the Tribunal, it seemed best not to mention that theory. "Well, it's just a hypothesis I have."

Riandr glanced up at the mountain peaks, miles above. The sun had continued to drop behind them, lengthening their shadows. The absence of its warmth added a decided chill to the air. She jumped from the platform. "Well however they disappeared I am grateful for the bridge. The sun is beginning to set, let's move on."

They moved beside her, crossing the bridge. On the other side of the river, the land rose again. Following a worn path they came upon a clearing, a Dwemer dais sat in the center bracketed by two immense stone columns. Fil searched the dais quickly, before Riandr could form a protest. It held a strange empty chest which disappointed him, as well as a Dwemer helmet and sword. The pieces were beautiful, expertly crafted and intricately detailed; it broke Fil's heart to leave them there. But he knew they were close to Vol'vahlok now and the added weight of these pieces might very well mean the difference between life and death.

"Come, brother." Riandr stood between the giant columns, motioning to the clear path that ran between them. "Vol'vahlok awaits."

Fil jumped from the dais, joining the others by the path. "And the boy."

"And the boy," Riandr agreed.

The daylight was gone by the time they reached Vol'vahlok and the gentle snow that had started to fall added to the cold. The path rose rapidly up the mountainside and at its peak, dropped away before them, exposing the entrance to the tomb. Tucked into a small valley, surrounded by rocky cliffs, Vol'vahlok was almost impossible to find. It lay there, covered by tree and brush and a blanket of snow, as if it hid from the world. The familiar stone arch rose above the entrance, a solid column rising through the center, splitting the entrance in two. A short set of stone stairs were lit by a single bowl of magefire. Riandr could not see a form or shadow on the stone landing and she had to assume that the boy and Gian were waiting for them inside.

She took a deep breath, steadying herself. This was it then. The shard, the boy, the Nightmother, it all came to a head here. With a suddenness that was overwhelming her heart filled with fear. How were they to succeed? How did anyone succeed when gods were against them? What had she gotten her brother into? Her friends into? Why hadn't she kept her theory to herself? What if she were to cause the death of her friends, of her brother? How could she protect them all and get the shard? Why hadn't she sent them away so she alone faced the boy?

Fil moved to her side, his arm touching hers. "Let's go hurt the little godling. Steal his toys from him. I've never stolen anything from a child. Always wanted to though. Remember Harrald? Strutting around Riften, eating candy bought with treasury gold?" Fil's eyes narrowed at the memory. "Always wanted to steal his candy."

Riandr felt her pulse slow, her fears quieted. She turned to her brother unable to stop the laughter that burst from her. "Fil! You were just a child yourself!"

"That's why I didn't. But I wanted too!" Fil's tone was defensive. "I also wanted to beat the dung out of him. He always had guards surrounding him though. Whiney little bugger."

She grinned wickedly and said, "Then let us steal you some candy, brother." Turning her attention back to the path, she moved purposefully in the darkness to the tomb's entrance. Drenn touched Fil's arm and caught his gaze, he smiled at the mage and nodded his approval. Fil gave a slight nod in return. He knew his sister, knew exactly what she thought as she stood on the top of that hill, looking down at the entrance. Knew exactly how much guilt she would carry for the rest of her life if anything happened to him or their friends. He also knew that his sister's sharp mind was the only chance they had of succeeding. A light spell of calming and a moment of laughter was all that was needed to aid his sister and allow her to focus on the task at hand, her fears quieted.

The iron door sparkled in the fire light. She did not imagine for one instant that the door would be locked; still she took a moment to check for traps. Though she knew the boy needed them to recover the shards, she did not trust him. Convinced the door held no surprises; she paused for a moment, pulling the hood of her armor over her head. She wasn't sure why she chose to conceal herself but she had the sudden impression that from this moment on she would be in constant battle with the godling. Any and every weapon she could find she must use to her advantage. Keeping the boy ignorant of her expressions and feelings might be paramount in gaining an upper hand. She turned to Fil, her tone cold. "Remember, mage."

"I know, assassin." From this point on they were no longer brother and sister. That would be a weapon they knew the boy would use against them in a heart beat. Fil would not give him that weapon.

With a nod to her friends, she pushed the door open to reveal a large entry chamber. The room was empty of debris, holding only a campfire that crackled in the center of the chamber. Bent over a pot that hung over the flames stood Gian. Her golden hair hung across her face, blocking their view of her as she bent toward the pot, stirring its contents. The boy sat in a chair near the fire, staring at the flames. As they stepped into the room the boy turned to them, singling out Riandr with a withering gaze.

"You are late," he said.

Riandr cringed inwardly, though showed no sign. She had forgotten the sound of his voice. It was lifeless, dead. It held neither warmth nor ice. It was simply sound, a dead echo of a life that once was.

"We were… delayed," Riandr replied.

The boy's gaze took in the band, resting for a longer time on Drenn. From behind her hood Riandr would have sworn the boy's jaw clenched at the sight of the Dark Elf. Whether it was anger at an unannounced addition to their group, or something else she couldn't say. Then the boy grinned venomously, and his attention moved on to Myllian and her armor. He raised an eyebrow and said, "Battled a dragon, I see."

Riandr nodded more than a little concerned with his reaction to Drenn. She glanced at Gian who had not yet turned to them or offered a creating, her blonde hair a barrier between them. Under the pretence of warming her hands, she moved toward the fire and squatted next to it, trying to catch a glimpse of the girl's face. The healer continued to stand there, stirring the contents of the pot, refusing to look at them. They may not have been close when Gian set off with the boy, but her eyes had held both warmth and concern. This callous disregard for their arrival worried her.

"I hope that's stew, Gian. I'm starved!" Fil said with boyish charm, working his way to Gian's other side. Her lack of response to their arrival bothered him as well. He played the part of the clueless fool well, babbling about his hunger as he held his hands toward the fire and turned to her, a happy grin on his face. With a sigh she straightened and turned toward him, brushing back her hair. At the sight of her face he stepped back, gasping.

"That bad, Fil?" Gian tried to laugh. It ended up sounding more like a strangled cough.

Fil stared. He couldn't help himself. The beautiful woman that had left their company in Whiterun was no more. Her hair, still golden in the fire's light, hung around her shoulders, a halo about her face, but that was all that was left of the woman he remembered. Her face had grown gaunt, so gaunt her check bones and eyes sockets pressed painfully against her skin. Her blue eyes, so clear and bright, were now a pale mockery of what they had been. Her skin was no longer softly tanned indicating vigorous health, but was instead white, almost translucent. It reminded him of the wings of the Luna Moth. That particular moth was a symbol of death and in fact, there was much about her appearance that reminded him of death. He tried to murmur a denial.

Gian shook her head. "It's all right, mage. I am aware of what… has become of me."

"Yes. Our healer was forced to stretch her powers to their limits. She lives though, so you can take comfort in that. We may well need her powers in Vol'vahlok." The boy's voice held nothing in the way of compassion.

Fil turned on the boy, glaring at him. He knew Riandr wanted him to hold his tongue, could feel her screaming at him in his mind. So he said nothing, simply glared at the boy for a moment and then reached out and took Gian's hand. He smiled at her, and then cast his spell of healing. The spell joined them, linked their very essences, allowing him to pull some of her pain from her, taking it on himself. He knew he was not a powerful enough healer to erase all that had happened to her, but he could lessen the agony she was in and as he reached out to pull her pain from her he knew agony was what she felt. He couldn't imagine what kind of injuries she had been forced to heal, but the toll it had taken on her had been excruciating.

Gian struggled for a moment, unable or unwilling to burden Fil with the pain. But as his grip tightened she knew he would refuse to let go, so she gave up and allowed him to help. Wave after wave of pain shot through their connection. Fil's knees almost buckled as the torrent washed over him. Lost in the ocean of agony that filled the woman Fil would have drowned if Riandr had not stood and severed the connection. Fil gasped, trying to assimilate the pain and let it pass from him. Gian stood next to him, swaying slightly.

With a deep breath she turned to him, her eyes once again the bright blue he remembered. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice considerably stronger. "That was most kind of you."

The boy stood and with anger in his tone cried, "You will not do that again, mage! You will not risk your life for her or anyone else. Is that clear?"

Fil, still hunched over in pain, stood and slowly nodded. Behind her hood Riandr smiled. 'Now isn't that interesting,' she thought. 'Angry that Fil might risk his life? Why?'

As if sensing his mistake, the boy dropped to the chair adopting an uncaring attitude. "I need all of you to secure the final shard. That is all that matters. I am certain the Nightmother would agree." He turned to Riandr and this time his voice dripped with disdain. "You do remember the Nightmother, do you not, assassin?"

Riandr did not respond, choosing instead to stand as still as stone, staring at the boy. In a sudden flash she realized his tone, his stance, suggest one thing. He knew! Knew she had been marked by the guild! But how did he know? And what did it mean? Did he know that she was aware of her change in status? And if so, had he also worked out that she no longer felt compelled to follow the Nightmother's orders? If he thought her still ignorant, than he would expect the barb to wound her pride. But if he knew she was now a mark, her will her own, then her motivations would be suspect. Yet he allowed her to live. The only conclusion she could draw was he must need her alive! His passionate response to Fil's risk was also curious. She and her brother? Assassin and Mage? Did he need them both? And if so, why?

The only thing she knew for certain was here, at Vol'vahlok, they were not an arbitrary group. They must each be vital for his plan to succeed, she and her brother especially. She dropped to the fire, frustrated. The pieces were there. All the pieces to the puzzle! She simply could not yet combine them to form a picture.

"You should eat, all of you." Gian began to fill bowls with stew, passing one to each of them.

"Yes. Eat Quickly. Vol'vahlok is deep and holds many… surprises." Over the top of her bowl Riandr was certain she saw the boy smile.

Drenn and Myllian stood back from the fire. The boy's stare, filled with loathing, had not gone unnoticed by the Dark Elf, but the reason for it was unclear. He ate his stew slowly, certain for the first time in his life that he stood in the presence of a godling. The power this boy exuded was beyond measure. It looked to him as if a small sun burned inside the lad, filling him with fire and light. Like a garment, the godling donned this image of a boy, using it to trap and restrain the true essence within. However, it seemed to him the boy's skin was loosing its battle to contain so much raw power. Much like an old well worn shirt fraying at the seams, Drenn had the uncomfortable sensation that the casing was beginning to crack. A part of his mind wondered distractedly what might happen to those in the boy's presence when it did.

The boy stood abruptly, advancing to the iron door that led into Vol'vahlok. "It is time. Mother?" The boy held out his hand to Gian, his tone mocking.

Riandr watched the healer brace herself and then step to the boy's side, placing her hand in his. She remembered how protective of the boy Gian had been in Xarthias and knew the girl must have endured a great deal at the godling's hand to create such a change. From under her hood she would have sworn she saw Gian shudder at the thought of touching him. He gestured to the door and Riandr crossed the room to check it for traps. Finding none she pulled a lockpick from her sleeve and set to work. When the final bolt dropped into place, she pushed on the door; it did not make a sound as it swung open.

A high tunnel lay before them, lit with a small torch on the northern wall. Ahead they could clearly see the tunnel's ending, its circular mouth was wide and offered a good view of the next chamber. Bowls of magefire clinging to chains hung from the ceiling. A large platform rose to the left, two pits of mage flame burning there. Tall wooden posts rose from the floor at the front of the platform, curious flags dancing in an unseen draft.

Riandr moved silently into the tunnel, listening for footsteps or the typical soft moan of the undead. At the mouth of the tunnel Fil moved to her side, his palm glowing. He shook his head at her unspoken question. No life signs but theirs. Still moving quietly she mounted the stairs to the platform. Across the room she could see the mouth of the corridor as it continued deeper into the tomb. To her left at the back of the large stone dais was a throne. Immense in proportions and cut from rock, the chair was empty. As she turned to motion to the others all was clear she heard the distinct sound of footsteps coming from the passage across the room. Glancing at Fil, he nodded twice. Two life forms then, heading toward them. She motioned to Drenn and he moved to her side. From their place on the platform they would be hidden from view until Drenn could take his shot.

She was surprised when two Imperial soldiers stepped through the passage. 'Why would Imperial soldiers be here?' she thought, and then an image of the entrance to Xarthias filled her mind, the strange missive and three dead Imperials. Her thoughts raced back to that moment, trying to remember the details of that communiqué. She remembered the letter had mentioned something about procuring an artifact, at any cost and that the Thalmor were after it as well. She glanced at her brother, a look of alarm on her face as she gestured to the soldiers.

Fil's eyes narrowed, as with a sudden realization he knew exactly what was running through his sister's mind. The Imperials presence here and at Xarthias could only mean one thing. They knew about the shards, knew they existed, if not what they did. They also must know a shard was here and if they were aware of it, it was certain the Thalmor knew as well. With a sinking stomach Fil wondered, along with the boy, how many other factions would they be forced to battle to win this shard and secure Tamriel's safety? Then an even more frightening thought occurred to Fil. Did the Imperials or the Thalmor already possess shards? And if so, what did that mean for Tamriel?

Riandr caught Fil's gaze, sharing his fears. Then she pushed that information and what it might mean to the back of her mind, concentrating on the present threat and their plan. As the soldiers drew near, Riandr gestured to Drenn. It took only a moment for Drenn to notch his bow and take them down. They fell to the ground without making a sound. They continued quietly across the room into the corridor, Drenn taking his arrows from the corpses as they passed. The corridor was wide and the walls of the passage were lined with roots as thick as Myllian's arm. They burrowed through the rock, using any crack or seam to force their way through searching for water. Bowls of magefire lined the walls their light reflecting off the damp stone, making it glitter like jewels.

When the tunnel turned Riandr could see it continue on before them for a distance, then quickly descend. She held up her hand, halting their forward movement, her senses screaming. Ten feet in front of them, a single soldier strolled out from a hidden alcove to their right. Drenn pierced his heart with an arrow. As his body toppled forward his head hit a rounded stone embedded in the floor. A large spiked door swung out from the alcove with such force it sent the soldier's corpse flying through the air. Riandr motioned to the round stone; the center of it covered in a distinctive painted swirl. She then gestured to her eyes, warning the others to be on the lookout for that particular mark.

They circumvented the door and made their way silently across the room to a large set of stone stairs. As they reached the top of the steps another long corridor opened up before them. There was no light where they stood and Riandr paused, using the darkness to study the passage and the single magefire that burned at the end. At that point the corridor appeared to split, heading east and west. There were no signs of movement, no disturbance in the firelight or shadows on the walls. She was about to signal the others to move forward when she heard a loud grunt echo all around them. Gesturing to the others to wait, she crept along the dark passage.

"I can't get it open!" A man's voice echoed along the tunnel. Moving as far as she could in the darkness she waited, straining to hear who was speaking and what they were up against. The voice had come from the left passage. The cauldron of magefire illuminated most of the end of the tunnel, forcing her to crouch, using every trick she knew to stay hidden. She made it to the archway and paused, glancing inside. Two men, an Orc and a Breton dressed in Imperial armor, stood across the chamber in front of a barred door, their focus fixed on the gate's lock. Without glancing to the others, she gestured to Fil and Drenn to join her.

As he joined her Riandr motioned to Fil and he flicked his wrist, his spell of Detect Life glowing softly in his palm. With a nod he assured her there were only the two life forms. The room had no additional lighting and so was awash in darkness. Motioning to them, she described the room and where the soldiers stood. She pointed to Drenn indicating that he should take the Orc, she would take the Breton. Fil nodded, readying a spell of lightning in case either of them should fail.

"You've been at it for five minutes. Here let me try," the Orc growled, his voice deep and gravely.

"This is getting ridiculous," the Breton whined. "If we don't get this open soon the cap'n will have our heads!"

"I think I almost got it!" the Orc said excitedly. "Come on! Just open!"

Riandr crept into the room, melting into the shadows. It took her a moment to cross to where the men stood, their backs to her, their focus on the barred door. With a nod to Drenn she leapt upon the Breton, dragging him into the darkness as she slit his throat. The Orc, his attention on the lock had a moment to say, "Huh?" before Drenn buried his arrow in the side of the Orc's neck.

Riandr knowing she should not be distracted but unable to stop herself, glanced at the lock. It wasn't a complicated one, made of iron and steel it appeared less intricate than most. The lockpick the Orc had been using still hung from the keyhole. Riandr placed her hand on the bars, gently turning the pick. The lock gave way with a sigh and the barred door opened. The alcove held only a lever that protruded from the wall. She was about to turn away, the lever holding no interest, when Fil was suddenly next to her, his expression reproachful. With sigh she stepped back and offered it to him. He reached out and with great excitement, pulled it down.

With a soft clunk a slice of the stone wall next to them, fell back and dropped through the floor making a soft grating sound as it went. It revealed a small tunnel that dropped for about ten feet, ending in a dimly light room. Fil glanced at his sister and she grinned, motioning to him to move swiftly. Without wasting another second he raced down the tunnel. The small room held a singular bookcase and a chest. Fil quickly checked the chest for traps and then thrust open the lid. Inside lay a beautiful Elven shield, some septims and a dozen glass arrows. Fil scooped up the septims and arrows, sadly leaving the Elven shield behind. A quick glance at the bookcase revealed a vial of powerful magicka. With great excitement his shoved that into his satchel. He raced back up the tunnel, rejoining his sister before she and Drenn had made their way across the room. With an enthusiastic gesture he handed the arrows to Drenn, who happily placed them into his quiver.

Joining the others, they carefully made their way down the eastern corridor. The hallway was well lit, torches lining the walls every few feet. It wound back on itself, like a snake slithering through the tall grass, always sloping gently downward, until finally leading them to a large wooden door. Riandr motioned to the band to press themselves against the stone walls of the corridor, wishing there were more shadow for them to conceal themselves. Working her way to the door, she pressed her ear against the thick planks, her fingers probing the joints of the door for traps. She wasn't surprised when she heard the muffled sound of voices through the small gaps in the door.

"Did you find anything yet?" a deep voice asked.

"Can't say that I have," a woman answered.

"Quiet! I think I heard something," the man ordered.

"This place has got you shakin' in your armor ever since we arrived," the woman teased.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Let's check that smaller room again. Don't know how we're supposed to find something if we don't know what it is."

"Orders are orders, Prefect. I just hope we recognize it when we see it." With that their conversation became more subdued and then died away completely.

The manner in which their voices trailed off made it clear to Riandr that they had moved away from the door, hopefully down a side passage. Having found no evidence of traps, she placed her hand against the door and gently pushed it open a few inches, peering into the room. Rectangular in shape, the chamber was immense, the distant end fading into the darkness. A long table filled the center; the walls were covered in shelving which were in turn filled with plates and cups. Large bowls filled with fire hung from the ceiling, offering little in the way of light to the room below. Along the wall to her left Riandr counted two doorways. The corridor through the door closest to her went straight for a good twenty feet and then circled east toward the opposite end of the room. She could only assume it reentered the room through the second archway. This was not their exit then.

Riandr glanced toward the northern wall of the room, opposite those corridors. The magefires that burnt in the brassieres high above their heads did not cast their light that far, shadows danced along its length offering them concealment. She motioned to Drenn to be ready with his bow should their friends reenter the room, and then pushed the door open wide enough for them to quickly move past the archway and into the darkness.

They walked swiftly into the shadow, traveling along the wall, hidden from view. A large iron door sat in the center of the eastern wall. Riandr checked for traps and then pushed the door open. On the floor not three feet from the doorway lay a soldier, completely still and covered in blood. Drenn touched Riandr's elbow, pointing to the rounded stone in the center of the door's arch, its heart covered in a painted swirl.

Riandr nodded. 'Nasty place to put a trap,' she thought. They skirted the pressure plate, the sight of the soldier's crushed skull a vivid reminder of the Nord's fondness for deadly surprises. The corridor continued on, empty but for a single bowl of magefire. The stone corridor turned at this point, traveled a few feet and then emptied into another large chamber. They paused at the entrance to the room, waiting for signs of life, but nothing stirred within. When Fil's spell confirmed the room was empty, they crept inside.

An enormous pillar filled the center of the room, a burning brazier at its summit casting ominous shadows on the stone floor. An arch, the room's only other exit, filled the wall opposite. The arch opening was sealed by long metal bars that ran from the floor up through the ceiling. Through the large gaps between the bars they could see a smaller room, empty but for a few bookshelves and a circular trap door that took up most of the floor.

Riandr turned her attention to the room they were in, focusing on the massive four-sided pillar that almost filled the chamber. Each face of the pillar displayed a different creature carved into the stone. The four corners of the room each held a three sided pyramid, exactly like the ones they had used at the Nordic ruin outside of Whiterun, the now familiar animal symbols engraved upon them. It did not escape Riandr's notice that the dust covering the base of the small pyramids was undisturbed. The Imperials, in their ignorance or arrogance toward the ancient Nords, had as yet been unable to decipher the room's puzzle. She hoped that meant from this moment on the soldiers would cease to be a problem.

Riandr motioned to the others to pick a pyramid and rotate it to match the symbol on the pillar that faced it. Fil moved to the small pyramid near Gian and gestured for her aid. The boy glared at the mage but allowed Gian to help him. As she placed her hands upon the small pyramid Fil covered her fingers with his own, casting his spell of healing, drawing more of her pain from her. He took his time with the stone, moving it in small increments, keeping their bodies between their hands and the boy so his aid would go unnoticed. As the pyramid clicked into place Gian mouthed a soundless thank you to him. He smiled as he saw her face grow fuller, her skin less sallow.

As the final carving and symbols snapped into place the metal bars that were blocking the door retreated into the arch with a soft whoosh. Riandr moved into the room, her attention on the trap door. It was made of iron, with long bars that ran the length of it, leaving openings a few inches wide. Through these openings she could see a wooden staircase spiral along the walls into the darkness below. She glanced at the surrounding walls but found no other obvious egress from the room. With a sigh she acknowledged that this was where they needed to go. There was no lock in the center of the trap or pressure plate around its edge to activate it. She glanced at Fil and they spread out, searching the room for a lever.

It took only a moment for Fil to find it, hidden in the darkness behind a pillar. He pulled the handle and the trap door swung open, exposing the staircase. Riandr glanced at her brother then at the darkness below. If what she knew of Nordic tombs held true, this would lead them to the passage that led to the burial chamber. They would soon find themselves first in a pitted battle against whatever powerful undead guarded the shard and then against the boy himself. Taking a deep breath, she stepped onto the staircase, knowing from here there would be no turning back.


	24. Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Three

The stairs creaked loudly under their weight, the sound echoing against the stone like thunder. It seemed to Riandr the staircase wound forever into the darkness. Fil followed immediately behind her, his right hand holding a ball of magelight. He held it ready but did not yet cast it as he knew she could see perfectly well in the darkness. As her foot hit the stone base of the stairs she paused, listening intently. There was an arch at the base of the stairs. It was small, barely large enough for a single person and led into a short tunnel, lit by a sputtering torch.

Wary, she moved silently into the tunnel. Something was amiss, but she was having trouble identifying it. The stone walls of the tunnel were damp and reflected the light of the torch. On the floor sat a shattered pot, clumps of dirt and a large soul gem. Nothing to arouse this sense of caution she felt and yet…

Her gaze came to rest on the tunnel's exit and she paused. The torchlight! Dim as it was, its light should have illuminated at least a few feet past the arch, however no light penetrated into the room from the torch, nor into the tunnel from the room beyond. Even her acute sight could not break through the darkness. She stopped at the entrance to the room, peering into the blackness beyond. It hung in front of her, blacker than ink and yet oddly substantial; reminding her of a thick fog, but no movement or breath of air disturbed it. It was denser than any darkness she had ever seen.

Glancing at her brother he nodded and shot the ball of magelight into the room. It sparkled, bright blue, for the first two feet and then was gone, swallowed up by the darkness. They glanced at each other and Fil nodded, certain magic was responsible. Riandr motioned to Drenn and Myllian to join them. The tunnel was small and barely allowed her and Fil to stand together. The four of them were quite cramped, Myllian's sword digging painfully into Drenn's thigh.

"We'll need to spread out," she whispered. "Drenn to the left with me, Myllian you and Fil to the right. Light does not penetrate it, but other than that I'm not sure what we'll face."

Myllian tried to shrug and found it impossible in the cramped hallway. "Let's go find out, boss!"

Fil flicked his wrists a spell of fire in one palm, lightning in the other. "I'm with, My."

"Watch the flame!" Drenn grumbled as Fil's spell came a bit too close to his leg.

"Sorry!" Fil muttered and quickly moved his hand.

"Try and keep your partner near and if it comes to a battle, keep your attacks forward. I'd rather not feel that axe of yours across my belly, My."

"Yes, boss lady." Myllian nodded.

She motioned to Gian to stay in the tunnel with the boy and with great reluctance the healer agreed. The four moved into the chamber slowly, fanning out against the wall as they entered. With measured steps they moved forward, each of them struggling to see in the darkness. As they moved Riandr noted that the air was not only dense but it clung to her. Cold and moist, it felt to her as if she were moving through a barrier, as if the air itself had taken on substance.

They had moved no more than ten feet into the room when they heard it. It began as a low moan, not so much frightening, but surprising. However it quickly grew in strength and number, a single moan becoming two then five then ten. In a heartbeat the air around them was filled with the baleful sound and then just as quickly the moans began to wash over and around them. Riandr could feel something brush past her face, the moaning louder and more intense as it did so.

She could neither see nor hear Drenn, but she knew he must still be by her side, his Elven senses guiding him even in this wretched darkness. Sighing, she tried to steady herself, suddenly feeling quite disoriented and very sad. It grew difficult to focus and she had an overwhelming desire to sit, to drop to the floor, close her eyes and take a much deserved rest. She felt so tired… and such sadness! Her eyes welled with tears, her heart near to breaking with sorrow. All she could think about was sleep, to close her eyes and block out the pain, to never feel this grief again. Whether it was instinct or training she could not be sure, but as the sorrow began to overwhelm her heart something took control of her body and when she felt again a brush against her leg she leapt forward and thrust her blades upward, into the dark.

A scream echoed through the chamber and for the span of a heartbeat the room was flooded with light. As the blackness encased them again Riandr repeated her leap, thrusting her blades left and right, up and down. The responding screams echoed in the chamber, the torchlight flickering on and off. With every thrust and flash of light she felt the sorrow lift, her confusion dispelled. With another thrust and flash of light she was able to get a better idea of the room and its depth. The chamber was quite large; running nearly fifty feet in front of her, she could tell that it was easily half as wide as well. She kept moving forward, kept thrusting her blades, dancing in the dark, decimating whatever it was that held them there.

Fil flicked his wrists, lightning forming in his palms. He had begun to fade, his head filled with a fog he had been unable to shake. Then suddenly light filled the room and for a brief moment his sister hung suspended in the air as if fighting an unseen foe. Then there was the darkness and fog surrounding him, only to be broken again by a flash of light and his sister dancing her deadly dance. In that instant he could think, the fog in his mind erased. It was the light that burnt away his stupor! With each flash their predicament became clearer, with each flash he understood what Riandr was doing and why. He let the coruscating pulse burn his palm for a moment, allowing the pain to clear his head, then he shot his spell into the air above them. The shrieks of pain and subsequent flashes of light made him grin. Using both hands he cast lightning into the air above their heads with wanton abandon.

Drenn had been unwilling to use his bow in a darkness that even his Elven eyesight could not pierce. Pulling his dagger free, he had continued forward, using all of his senses to try and find Riandr. Then a flash of light had flood the room and clearly shown him what Riandr was doing and why. She had moved forward, so he took a step back and began thrusting the blade into the darkness, not surprised when the moaning that surrounded him turned to shrieks of pain and the room was filled with flashes of light.

Myllian stood still, her head filled with a strange fog. It quieted her normal lust for action, muffled the warrior cry of her heart. All she thought about was sleeping. Why was she suddenly so tired? All she needed was a nap. Why couldn't she just stop here, take a few minutes and close her eyes? No one would notice and she certainly deserved it. Her knees began to bend, to drop her slowly to the floor. Then suddenly, in the midst of the fog in her mind a bright figure appeared. Made up of speckles of light in blue, green and red the figure walked slowly toward her, burning away the fog as it moved. It raised its right hand and pointed at her. Its mouth opened and it bellowed, "_Get up!_" Like a bucket of cold water in her face, the voice broke through the fog. Her mind cleared in an instant. Of its own volition her hand had reached for the sword of Hjalti and now held it before her, its glowing blade cutting a swathe of light in the darkness. With a grin Myllian felt the rush of battle fill her again and she growled, slicing through the blackness before her with a vengeance.

Light filled the room and was gone in dizzying swiftness as each of the band struck and destroyed a dark phantom. Again and again the light flashed in direct response to a thrust of blade or bolt of lightning. They fought until their arms grew weak, the beings that had filled the room massive in number. When at last the four sconces that held torches burned brightly, only three forms remained, circling the room high above their heads. They held a vaguely human shape, without legs or a visage, only a gaping hole where a mouth should be, their inhuman cries echoing off the stone walls. Watching them for a moment Riandr had the distinct impression that they did not rise to the ceiling to avoid them and their blades, but were trying to avoid the light. As she watched the three forms huddle in a dark corner moaning, she became certain they were terrified of it. Fil tossed a bolt of lightning at them and two of the creatures exploded in a burst of darkness. The final specter hovered in the air for a moment, and then dropped to the floor soaring past the others to move through Riandr and disappear into the far corner of the western wall.

Riandr stood for a moment, stunned. She had felt its bitter cold essence pass through her. It had made her feel sick to her stomach and… something else. Turning, she raced to the spot in the wall where the phantom had disappeared. She scanned the wall, the floor searching for a latch, a catch. If she had to put a name to what she felt she would have to call it 'desperation'. The misty form or phantom had called to her, had pleaded with her, desperate that she should follow. Her breath caught in her throat as her fingers felt a small clasp in a tiny crevice in the floor.

She glanced at her brother and he sighed and then shrugged. He wasn't sure he liked what his sister was doing, but he could feel some of what she felt and the look she gave him was both a command and an entreaty. With some reluctance, he moved to stand between the boy and her, blocking the godling's view of her. Fil continued to flash his lightning at the ceiling, pretending to battle the dark forms. Myllian, after a moment's hesitation, mimicked Fil and swung her blade in wide arcs, slicing non-existent phantoms in two.

Without hesitation Riandr pulled the tiny lever. She heard an impossibly soft crack and then a gentle scrapping sound as part of the wall began to swing free. As the door moved, the air behind the door rushed into the room as if freed from a long captivity. After a few inches the door halted. She motioned to Drenn and they curled their fingers around the stone door, pulling it wide enough for her to slip through. She did not glance back at the others, afraid that if she did the boy might notice what she was doing. Instead she slipped through the door stepping confidently into the tunnel beyond.

Drenn followed her. Not only was he unwilling to allow her to travel this side passage alone, he was also filled with curiosity. He had seen the spirit pass through Riandr and had also seen the change in her expression. That spirit had whispered to her of this passage and that same phantom now compelled her to follow. As he stepped through the door he turned to motion to Fil and Myllian to keep the boy busy when the door, untouched by any hand, slammed shut. Drenn could hear the muffled voice of the boy through the wall.

"Where is the assassin?"

Placing his shoulder against the stone, he pushed with all his considerable strength, but to no avail. It seemed they would have to find another way out. Turning to Riandr he was about to suggest they move on, only to find she had already left him, working her way swiftly down the dark tunnel. Drenn glared at her in the dark. "Thank you for waiting," he grumbled and then set off after her, his eyesight only slightly better than hers in the darkness.

* * *

"Where is the assassin?" the boy asked again.

"I don't know!" Fil shrugged. "She was here a minute ago. Maybe she went ahead to scout things out." His sister and Drenn had ducked through the opening unseen. However as the boy had stepped into the room the stone panel had slammed shut, preventing him from following them even if he had seen where they'd gone.

"Where is the assassin, mage?" The boy's tone was considerably strained and as he stared at the godling Fil wondered abstractly if the vivid pulse above the boy's left eye had always been there.

"I cannot tell you what I do not know!" Fil whined. "Let's head on. I imagine she's ahead, scouring the halls. That's what assassins do, isn't it?"

The boy reached for Gian's hand and raised it high enough so Fil could see. Then he began to squeeze. Fil blanched as Gian moaned in pain. "One last time, mage. Where is the assassin?"

Fil paused uncertain just how far the boy would go to get the answer he wanted. He had already shown that Gian's life was worthless to him, forcing her to use her healing gifts until she was practically a walking corpse. But what should he do, betray his sister? Let the boy kill Gian? He could see Gian start to crumble, her knees giving way at the pain the boy inflicted and he thought he might be sick at the godling's cruelty.

Something inside of Myllian snapped. From the deepest recesses of her mind a voice filled with passion and anger cried out to her. _'No more! End this now!'_ She moved to stand before the boy, her disgust and fury with him written very clearly on her face. Slowly and with great care, she raised the sword of Hjalti until the blade was only inches from the boy's throat. In a very cold and resolute tone Myllian said, "Release the healer now."

For a brief moment Fil swore he saw fear flash across the boy's face. "Where did you…" he gasped and then his features quickly returned to their expressionless mask. He stared at the blade and his tone was devoid of any emotion when he said, "Remove your blade or I will remove her hand."

Myllian did not move, she simply repeated in the same cold tone, "Release the healer now."

This time Fil could see the struggle dance across the boy's face. He could see how much the boy longed to snap Gian's hand off and throw it in Myllian's face. But the blade… ah! His eyes kept returning to the sword, watching as the colorful spells danced up and down the blade, mocking him. With a disgusted grunt the boy released his death grip on Gian's arm. She fell to the floor, gasping in pain.

Fil dropped to his knees next to her, not even attempting to hide his spell of healing. The boy opened his mouth to order Fil to stop and was suddenly aware that Myllian had not yet lowered her blade. Fil, his attention on Gian and the pain he was pulling from her, did not see Myllian's expression.

Myllian stood completely still, terrified that if she moved she would without a doubt sever the boy's head from his body. With a sudden flash of insight she knew she could. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she could end the boy's life, dissolve his connection to the mortal world. That somehow this blade, this token of her god Talos, could and actually… _longed_… to end the godling's life! Her arm ached to swing, to arc back and rush forward, tearing into muscle and sinew, splashing blood across the room. Thrill as the boy's head flew through the air for a moment before hitting the stone floor and bouncing away. _'Do it! Strike him down!'_ a voice cried. Her grip on the blade tightened and she could see small beads of sweat break out onto the boy's forehead.

Then suddenly another voice filled her heart. This one was quiet, calm and vividly reminded her of the moment between night and day when all of Nirn grew silent in worship of the change. _'Stay your hand, warrior,'_ the voice whispered_. 'Remember your promise.'_ An image of Riandr filled her mind. Riandr had said, 'We cannot kill the boy. _Promise me._' Myllian had replied, '…_in Talos' name and on my honor as a Nord, I promise you_.' Myllian stood there now and grappled with her lust to kill the godling and her loyalty to her friend. It took less than the span of a breath for her lust to diminish. She had given Riandr her word, had sworn on Talos' name and her honor! And if there was one thing a Nord valued even more than Talos, it would be her honor!

Slowly, her gaze never leaving the boy's face, Myllian let the blade drop to her side. She was not surprised to hear the boy's swiftly drawn breath. He knew as well as she how close he had come to death. The look he gave her clearly told her he would not forgive this moment. And her death, when he inflicted it would be long and excruciating.

He turned from her to glare icily at Fil and ask, his tone venomous, "Where is the assassin?"

* * *

The tunnel was dark, but Riandr moved through it as if were sunlight. It curved slightly as it descended quickly ending in a small wooden door. The door had no lock or traps so Riandr lifted the latch and pushed it open. She had to stop for a moment and cover her eyes, assaulted by brilliant firelight, and then slowly lowered her hand as her eyes adjusted. Drawing in a quick breath she took in the room before her, astounded by the sight.

A fire crackled in a fireplace to her left, a large bed occupied most of the wall to her right. A small table next to the bed held necklaces and bracelets of all size and shape and color, their precious gem stones twinkling in the firelight. In the center of the room lay a beautiful woven rug that shone with colors of purple, gold and maroon. The bed boasted a thick cover of the same design. The walls of the chamber were covered with beautiful pastel images of cities and villages that Riandr did not recognize. In every other available spot there were tables covered in books and papers, ink pots and quills, one held paints and charcoal with a stack of crisp white linen sheets aching to be covered. Next to the bed, almost completely hidden behind a tapestry, stood an open archway.

Drenn caught up with her, taking in the room at a glance. "A woman's bedchamber?" he pondered aloud.

Riandr nodded, carefully stepping into the chamber. The room reminded her a little of a Dwemer ruin. As with the Dwemer she had the oddest impression that the occupant had just left and would shortly return. Moving to the nearest table, she began searching through the papers, looking for anything that might explain who the woman that had lived here was and why.

Drenn was drawn to the stack of drawings piled on a table. Curved towers and rounded buildings rose above streets that glittered in a setting sun. The architecture reminded him of a painting his grandfather had owned. An image of the Tower of Su'Yoliz he had brought with him from Skywatch on the Summerset Isles. Another sketch was clearly the Ceporah Tower, a sacred site to the Altimer, one of the oldest on the isles, in fact possibly the oldest in all of Tamriel. He lifted the work from the desk for a closer look and then paused as his gaze fell upon a portrait. "Ri," Drenn held up the portrait, "take a look."

She moved to his side, curious, wondering if the image he held was a portrait of the room's occupant. She was Elven; long silver hair framed one side of her face, a distinctive Elven ear holding it back on the other. Her skin was a light golden color; her eyes were the color of honey and sparkled with warmth and charm. "She's beautiful," Riandr murmured. "But why? Why was she here, shut away from the world?"

Drenn froze for a moment his attention caught and held by another portrait. "Ri… look." He held up the second portrait and Riandr gasped. The second image was of a male whose face and stance were an exact copy of the woman's. Drenn placed the two portraits side by side and but for the necklaces at their throats, it was as if the Elves in the images stared into the mirror, so perfectly alike they were.

A cold chill raced down Riandr's spine. "What… why..."

Drenn stared at the portraits, trying to grasp their implications. "It is almost unheard of for Elves," he said slowly, thoughtfully. "And yet here I hold the evidence! This must be a self-portrait. And this," he pointed to the image of the man, "must be a portrait of her twin."

Riandr shook her head, the cold hand of fear gripping her heart. Twins? "You don't know that!" she said accusingly. "It could be her husband. It could be her son!"

Drenn shook his head. "No, Ri. Elven bloodlines are very clear. This woman and this man are brother and sister. Taking into account the similarity in their age and the fact that Elves do not usually reproduce more than once in a lifetime, never mind twice in quick succession, the only logical conclusion is that these two are twins."

The images began to swim before her eyes. Twins? Coincidence? Here in the tomb where a shard was hidden, protected? Twins? Her mind raced back to Xarthias. Once again she and Fil stood on the platform, locked in battle with the Gaunerians. An image of their hands clasped together, filled her mind. She could almost sense their relentless, unshakable grip on one another, an eternal bond. She remembered even then how the significance of that act frustrated her. She had no explanation for it, no sound reasoning and yet it had called to her, echoed in her heart in a terrifying flash. And now… now it took everything she had not to race from the room, find her brother and flee this place.

"Guardians," Drenn motioned to the portraits, "Guardians of the shards. However this room does not suggest someone who was sent to her death unwillingly. I have the impression that she and her brother were chosen or _chose _to protect the shard. They were willing participants in their fate." He moved to the small table near the bed, removing two necklaces from their resting place. Stepping back to the portraits he held them up for Riandr's inspection. "Look. Look at the images. She wears this medallion of the moon, he the medallion of the sun. If I were to hazard a guess, I would say they were worshipers of Azura."

Riandr reached out and took the moon medallion from his hand, turning it over in her palm. "The Daedric prince of day and night? Why would worshipers of Azura be here? Guarding the shard? Of what possible interest could the shard be to her?"

Drenn was silent for a moment, trying to find the words to explain the goddess to a human. "Azura is one of the more merciful and benevolent Daedric lords, though her wrath is equally vicious. She has often interceded for man, against her more malevolent brethren. Her… fondness, for lack of a better word, for Man and Mer is well known among my people. Perhaps, by choosing guardians, this is simply another way she quietly aids against the end of times?"

"I don't understand," Riandr grabbed the sun medallion from his hand and shoved both necklaces into in a pocket, frustrated. "Why condemn these Elves to death? To an eternity of half-life, guarding the shard? If she has taken this much action and appointed guardians, why not go one step further and destroy the shard? Be done with it?"

Drenn shrugged. "Control over the fate of Tamriel has never been the Blessed Mother's way. Besides, you said it yourself; perhaps the shard cannot be destroyed."

"But she's a Daedric prince! Can't she do anything she wants?"

"No. Of course not. If that were true Molag Bal or Mehrunes Dagon would have taken Nirn for themselves a millennium ago. Even Daedric princes have limitations. It is why so many of them seek mortal champions."

"So that is what these Elves, these Bosmer were? Champions of Azura?" She stared into the eyes of the Elven woman. They were beautiful, clear and focused, full of wisdom and a touch of the ever-present Elven supremacy. Had she become one of those horrors? One of the howling undead like those she and Fil had destroyed in Xarthias?

"They may not have been Bosmer," Drenn said softly as he picked up the portrait of the man, scanning his face intently.

"What were they then, Dwemer?" Riandr asked, confused.

"Chimer."

"Chimer? As in your ancestors?"

Drenn nodded, fascinated by the portraits. "It would make sense. Their eyes… the angle of their cheek bones. So familiar and yet so foreign."

"But their skin? Their hair? Why would your ancestors be here? And why aren't they Dunmer?" Riandr felt the questions tumble from her in a rush.

"My guess is they were chosen as champions for Azura before my people were 'blessed' and forever changed. Worship of Azura was forbidden after the Tribunal. The real questions are why Champions of Azura and why twins?"

Riandr glanced about the room, confused by everything in it. The dark phantom had led her here. Had pleaded with her to follow and see this room, to know about these two beautiful and tragic Elves. But why? Because they were twins? Riandr had to admit that the similarity to her and Fil made her blood run cold. But was that all? Or was she simply not seeing everything, what part of the puzzle was she still missing?

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the black mist coalesce and float in the air. It reached out and touched the tapestry, pulling it back from the arch, motioning for her to enter. She touched Drenn on the arm, nodding toward the phantom. Filled with questions she stepped toward the arch hoping the dark form could offer her answers.

* * *

Myllian's axe cleaved the head off the last of the draugr. They had continued on, following the passage as it led from the chamber. The corridor was well lit, magefire burning in braziers along the stone walls. Without Riandr's senses attuned to the slightest noise, they had stumbled into the first room blindly. The room was circular; the walls lined every two feet with stone sarcophagi. At their rather noisy entrance the lids to the sarcophagi burst open, smashing to the floor. More than twenty draugr rose from their resting places, growling menacingly. With a grin and a shout Myllian had leapt into the center of the room, Dragon's Doom spinning in her hand at an unnerving speed. The undead had, of course ignored Fil, Gian and the boy and focused on the raucous, shiny threat. Myllian had quickly and with great ease dispatched more than half of the undead before Fil could form his first spell. To his surprise Gian moved away from the boy and with great passion began flinging destruction spells at draugr. He had never seen Gian do more than crinkle her nose at the undead and so was caught off-guard for a moment.

He was even more surprised when she turned to him and said her tone teasing, "I've destroyed six. How many have you killed?" With a grin he focused his attention on the draugr, trying to catch up.

When they were all destroyed Myllian looked around in frustration. "That's it?" she murmured, annoyed. "I could have sworn there were more."

The boy stood at the archway glaring at them. "Where is the assassin, mage?"

Fil rolled his eyes; the boy was now simply being obtuse. It was obvious at this point that even if he knew, he was not telling. "Again, I do not know. Possibly in the next chamber, doing her assassin… thing."

The boy glared at him and then gestured for Gian's hand, motioning for Myllian and Fil to head first down the passage way. Moving away from the pair Myllian leaned toward Fil, her tone anxious. "Do you think it wise to taunt the boy?"

Fil grinned. "Seriously, My. He intends to kill us; you can see it in his eyes. What's he going to do, kill me twice? Besides, I think your blade at his throat angered him a little bit more than my verbal thrusts."

Myllian nodded in agreement. Since she had held the sword near his throat he had been planning her torture and death in his mind. She could see it, as he stared at her. She knew he was mentally peeling the skin from her bones, gouging her eyes from their sockets. Torturing her in ways she could not even imagine. The sword screamed at her to end his life, but the image of Riandr was too strong in her mind. She would do as she had promised and place her faith in her friend. However if Riandr had a change of heart, if she was given permission to could kill the boy, then his head would be separated from his body before he could draw another breath. That thought made her grin.

The passage way turned north and abruptly emptied into a large chamber. The room was square, with an immense decorated column near each corner. In the center of the room was a single dais that rose three feet high. On top of the dais was a lone sarcophagus. Myllian glanced around the room, obviously disappointed. "Just one?"

Fil chuckled softly at the warrior's disappointment and then stepped into the room. Just as his foot hit the stone floor the lid to the sarcophagus exploded into dozens of pieces, scattering around the room. As each piece hit the floor it shimmered and crackled, growing in length and width until they equaled the size of a man. Fil watched in detached amazement as the ebony pieces grew arms, legs and heads. Out of their arms grew weapons. Broad axes, swords, and bows were gripped tightly in their metals hands. Fil glanced accusingly at Myllian.

From the sarcophagus itself an enormous draugr rose. He stood more than seven feet tall and was broad of shoulder, his muscular arms as thick as Fil's thigh. He held a long spear that ended in a vicious spike, flames of blue fire racing along its length. The massive draugr turned toward them and raising his hand, pointed at them. As one the ebony men turned in their direction, weapons readied.

"Ah… dung," Fil murmured.

* * *

Riandr moved into the next room, not surprised to find it similar to the one they had just left, holding a soft bed and a roaring fire. The room held fewer tables, and was a bit more organized but otherwise was a mirror image. The dark form hovered over a table, empty but for a single tome. Moving to the book she reached out and touched the leather cover. A latch kept the diary sealed, but it took no time at all to work the tiny lock. Lifting the cover she was surprised to find the pages filled with unknown symbols. She growled in frustration at the swirls and lines that meant nothing to her. Then the black form reached out and brushed what she thought might be a hand across the page. The symbols began to dance before her eyes, stretching and contracting until they formed letters she knew and words she understood. With a quick nod to the phantom, she began to read:

_"For centuries, nay millennia untold my sister and I have guarded the shard. Here, in the bowels of Nirn we have kept our promise and prevented the apocalypse. The arrogance of the Dwemer is without equal! To create such a thing and then give it unending life is beyond reason, beyond sanity! They do this simply to say, Ha! It is done! Their singular devotion to their own brilliance will be their undoing. They toy with the lives, the very existence of others, assigning them neither weight nor value. They mock the gods and proclaim themselves their equal. It is without question an act that will bring about their doom. While we wait for the destruction of the Dwemer, those of us who respect life and the beauty that is our world must protect it from their callous disregard. This is what my sister and I do. We offer our lives in the hope that this shard, this piece of a discarded experiment of the Dwemer and Nirn's potential doom will never be united with its brothers. Six pairs, twelve birthmates, guard the pieces of a shattered gate. Guardians against the destruction of our world, we stand unbowed, offering our lives, our very blood as sacrifice. Only like blood may free us. __Until the day others come to take our place, freeing us to return to the One, we stand fast, we remain,_

_The Gate Keepers."_

Riandr turned to Drenn. "Those of like blood?"

Drenn turned to the phantom who hovered, watching them. "He knows! That's why they're here! That's why the boy has brought them. He needs their blood to open the seal!" The phantom nodded its vaporous head.

The boy knew, Riandr realized with a sudden clarity. Of course he knew! It explained everything! Not only knew they were twins but counted on it! Needed their filial bond to get the shard! She turned to Drenn and screamed, "Then he won't get it! I'll get Fil out! We'll run!" Riandr's eyes had taken on a glazed look, terror filling her.

"He will find others. A set of twins who are not as smart, or as gifted as you and Fil. He may already have… Ri," Drenn grabbed her by the arms and turned her to him, forcing her to stare into his eyes. "We can do this. We can still open the seal, take the shard and trap the boy here."

Riandr's eyes filled with tears. "I'm frighten, Drenn. It's not… I don't care about myself. It's _Fil_! I can't have him trapped here! I can't let that thing kill him! I can't!"

"And we won't," Drenn's tone was calm, steady and final. There was no room for argument. "Neither you nor Fil is going to remain behind. No one will be left behind. I will not allow it!" As she struggled against him he repeated, "Do you hear me Ri? _No one will be left behind!_"

Something in his tone broke through the maelstrom of fear in her heart. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. Her eyes cleared and she tried to offer him a grin. As a single tear ran down her cheek, he reached up and gently wiped it away. Without thinking she leaned toward him and placed her lips on his. He was caught off guard at first, his mind completely occupied with forming a plan to keep her and Fil alive. But as she moved her lips against his the passion he had been feeling for days overcame him. He pulled her to him, pressing her body tightly against his and passionately returned her kiss.

It seemed cruel to him when Riandr pulled away, a smile on her lips. "Uh… we're being watched." She nodded in the direction of the mist who hovered in the air, staring.

Drenn was about to crush the mist with his bare hands when he had a thought. He spelled out their plan to the phantom, offering up every detail. When he was finished he asked, "Do you believe it will work?"

The phantom nodded its head vigorously, dispersing much of its misty form in the process. After a moment it coalesced again and motioned to the book. Riandr opened the tome, turning the pages until the spirit of the Elf motioned for her to stop. As it waved its hand across the symbols, they changed forming the phrase:

_"We will aid you as we can."_

"We?" Riandr asked and the phantom nodded.

Drenn glanced around the room. "They must both be here, guarding the shard." The Chimer nodded again. Drenn stared at the dark form, a thousand questions filling his mind. "There is so much I would ask you, so many questions about who we were, how we became…as we are. So much you know that has been lost throughout the centuries."

The Chimer motioned to the diary, waving its hand across the leather binding. Drenn picked up the book, asking reverently, "May I have this?" The Chimer nodded, this time a little less vigorously.

Riandr nudged Drenn as the two portraits came floating into the room. Suspended in midair they crossed the chamber and hung before Drenn. He reached out and took the images. "Shall I take these as well?" He turned to the phantom and it nodded again. Drenn's gaze covered the room, suddenly realizing that one of the spirits must be unable to manifest itself with the same solidity. "Thank you."

A loud explosion shook the stone beneath their feet and Riandr, her heart in the throat shouted, "_Fil_!"

The Chimer motioned to a tapestry that hung on the wall. Drenn lifted the fabric to expose another door. Riandr pulled on the latch and yanked the door open, racing down the hall ahead of Drenn. Drenn followed close behind, rolling the parchment and shoving the images and the diary into the satchel at his waist. The tunnel they were in came to an abrupt halt, ending in a stone wall.

Another explosion rocked the floor and pounding on the wall Riandr screamed, "_Fil_!"

The Chimer caught up with her and flew to a handle that protruded from the wall to her left. Riandr grabbed the handle and pulled. The stone wall before them opened slowly with a soft sigh. She slammed her body against it, forcing it to move faster. As the door opened she could see flashes of lightning filling the room, the golden sweep of Myllian's axe was almost blinding in its speed. From where they stood the room appeared to be filled with dark warriors. Their armor and skin glittered in the torchlight like metal. The discarded husks of decapitated men littered the floor but Riandr could still count more than ten remaining. Most of them focused on Myllian, but a few were closing in on Fil, their blades sparkling in the torchlight.

Riandr covered the distance between her and her brother in three leaps. She used her momentum to bound upon a column and push herself onto a warrior. She and the man tumbled to the ground, years of training allowing her to land on his back his arms trapped beneath her knees, the weight of her forcing him into the ground unable to move. Silence and her Elven blade were in her hands and she thrust them at the man's back, frustrated as they skidded off, barely scratching his armor. She thrust again, this time at his throat. Again the blades skidded to the side, finding even his skin hard as metal. With a vicious laugh she reached down and yanked the warrior's head to the left and with her knee on its back, thrust Silence deep into its eye socket. The warrior quivered beneath her, then was motionless. Riandr leapt to her feet and turned to the next one.

Drenn paused as arrow after arrow bounced off of armor and skin alike. He watched as one of the men surrounding Myllian turned his attention from her, to him. He took a moment to assess the warrior, attempting to find a weakness, a chink in the armor. The only known weakness he had not yet tried to exploit was the warrior's eyes. He notched his bow and before the man could take another step had embedded a glass arrow deep into its right eye socket, destroying its brain. The warrior stopped in its tracks and fell backward without making a sound. "Ah!" Drenn grinned. "It's always the last place you look."

Riandr took out the last of the warriors surrounding her brother, glancing at him with a smile. "Nice of you to join us s… assassin!" Fil in his excitement to see her, almost let their relationship slip.

Riandr shook her head, panting. "What… happened… mage?"

"Found a sarcophagus. The lid exploded. Everywhere the shards landed warriors appeared. You know, the usual."

"Ah…" Riandr nodded to Myllian and the five ebony men that remained. "Is that the lot?"

Fil nodded. "Oh wait. There was one more. A big fellow… had a glowing spear." He glanced around the room but could not find the draugr. "Must have run off."

Drenn began to cross the room to join them, certain that Myllian could handle the rest. Stepping over the scatter remains of the men Myllian had cut in half, he was passing a stone column when one of the warriors surrounding Myllian turned toward him, raising his broad axe over his head. Drenn stepped back, easily avoiding the blade as it cut through the air. However the blade, missing its intended target, shattered against the column splitting the stone in two. The top half of the column began to topple, heading towards Drenn. The Dark Elf went to step aside, when suddenly he found his legs caught and held. Half of a metallic warrior, existing only from the waist up, grabbed him by the legs, causing him to fall forward onto the stone floor. Drenn turned toward the ebony warrior struggling against him, kicking and stabbing at him with his dagger, trying to free himself from the creature's iron grip. But the column was too close, fell too fast and he was unable to break free in time. The stone crashed to the floor, smashing the warrior and crushing Drenn's left leg beneath it.

His scream filled the room and Riandr's heart froze. Fil grabbed her by the arm and dragged her to where Drenn lay, half buried by the column. Myllian, distracted for a moment by Drenn's scream, jumped as an ebony blade bounced off her dragon bone armor. With a final thrust she finished off the last of the men and raced to her friend's side. She held back a gasp when she realized Drenn was trapped beneath the stone. Drawing a deep breath she gathered her Redguard adrenaline to her. Reaching under the column she lifted the stone, straining against its weight and with a loud grunt, heaved it across the room.

No one spoke as they stared at the remains of Drenn's left leg. The Dark Elf was ashen, his eyes closed. It wasn't the pain, though that would start soon enough. It was the knowledge. The realization that his leg was gone, shattered beyond recognition. It took a moment for him to comprehend that Fil had dropped to his side. He watched as, pulling a large blue potion from his sac, Fil put the vial to his lips and downed every lost drop. Then the mage turned to him with a smile on his lips and whispered, "So, let's get this thing done, shall we?" His hands burst into a golden fire and he placed them on Drenn's leg. Drenn screamed and Riandr dropped to his side, taking his hand in hers.

"You will _not_!" the boy screamed, only to find Hjalti's sword once again at his throat.

"Back away, boy." Myllian forced the godling to move away from Fil, gesturing toward the passageway. "Let's keep an eye on the corridor, make sure our mage isn't interrupted, eh?" The boy glared at her, his expression full of the promise of his retribution.

Gian stared at the scene from the passageway they had come through. When she made as if to go to Fil's side, offer her aid, the boy very slowly shook his head, raising his right hand and squeezing the air before him. Gian pulled back into the shadow, terrified.

As the pain increased Fil felt his breath coming in ragged gasps. He kept his hands over the limb, gritting his teeth against the waves of agony that rushed from the Elf into him. Drenn could see the toll it was taking on Fil and he tried to rise, tried to push Fil's hands from his leg but he did not have the strength. Fil poured what little magicka he had left into the Elf, pulling together sinew and bone, muscle and tendon, replacing lost blood, rebuilding his crushed leg. Using every nuance of knowledge and skill he possessed to make his friend whole again. When the spell was complete, Fil took a moment to examine his work, pleased with the results and then promptly fell to the floor, drained of strength and breath.

Myllian dropped her sword and the boy crossed the room to glare at Fil, furious. "I told you not to risk your life again!"

Fil lay there staring at the ceiling, uncaring.

"Well done, mage," Myllian said in amazement as she turned from the archway, her attention on Fil and Drenn. "I don't think I have ever seen anything so…" she stopped abruptly as a long glowing spear suddenly protruded from the center of her chest. She glanced down at the bloodied tip jutting from her ribcage and whispered, "Oh…" Her body shook as the spear was suddenly pulled free, then without another word she fell to the floor.

"_My_!" Riandr screamed as she leapt from Drenn's side, rushing to the warrior. A vicious cold laugh echoed from the tunnel beyond and with a feral growl Riandr leapt into the darkened tunnel. There was little noise from the corridor as the assassin fought a soundless battle. Then there was complete silence. Riandr raced back into the chamber, dropping to Myllian's side. "Oh god, woman, don't die!"

She tried to stem the flow of blood that rapidly oozed from the woman's chest to pool around her on the floor. The warrior convulsed and coughed, choking on her own blood as it flowed from her heart into her perforated lungs. Riandr continued to put pressure on the woman's chest. Glancing at her brother she knew he could be no help. He barely had the strength to lift his head. When he rolled his eyes toward the warrior, the horror of Myllian's punctured chest overwhelmed him.

"Gian!" Riandr turned to the healer. "Now!"

As Gian raced to aid Riandr, the boy stepped toward her and grabbed her arm, pinning her to his side. He thoughtlessly began to crush Gian's wrist as he said, "No." One corner of the boy's mouth twitched, his eyes glowing with spiteful amusement.

"What do you mean, no?!" Riandr cried. "She's dying!"

"Obviously," the boy replied.

Riandr's eyes grew cold and dark. "She can save her!"

Gian turned to the boy, her face lined with the pain he was inflicting on her. She knew what he would do to her, had seen in the past few weeks exactly what he was capable of. Fear of him, his cruelty and his inhumanity caused her throat to tighten for a moment. Then she glanced at Myllian's body, her blood spilling from her wound at an impossible rate. She was surprised to find her voice was clear and calm when she spoke, "Release me. Let me save her."

The godling's tone was annoyed, "No. We leave now."

None of them moved. Fil lay prone next to Drenn, staring at the boy. Drenn lay on his back, trying to regain some of his strength. Riandr could have been carved from stone.

"We leave now!" the boy's voice rose, his anger evident.

Riandr's gaze moved to his face, she could see the growing anger in his eyes, the way he gripped even more tightly to Gian's arm. 'The poor girl must be in agony,' Riandr thought. Still they did not move.

"On your feet, assassin." The boy turned and tried to pull Gian in the direction of the door.

Then, as if something inside the healer snapped, she softly growled. It was barely noticeable, so quiet in the midst of the tension. Then she went completely limp and fell to the floor.

The boy turned to her, his face displaying his intense displeasure. "Get on your feet, cow!"

Riandr stared at him, her face expressionless. The part of her brain that had been training for years to observe, was fascinated. She watched him as his gaze took in one after another, watched his face as the realization that he was no longer in charge began to slowly dawn on him. His grip tightened on Gian, but to the girl's credit she did not whimper or cry out. She simply lay there, limp and unmoving at his feet. Riandr wondered if the boy was aware that as much pain as he inflicted she as a healer could counter some of it. Still she knew the girl suffered greatly for her friend.

A pulse began to throb at the boy's throat; his eyes took on a harsh, insane glare as he cried, "_Get on your feet_!"

Again, no one moved. She waited a moment, so the implications of that could register with the godling and then she spoke. Her tone was calm, almost quiet as she stated, "We leave no one behind."

The boy glared at Riandr, his eye's filled with a hatred more intense than she had ever seen. It was as if someone tore a mask from the boy's youthful face, revealing an expression so evil, so malevolent that for a moment Riandr held her breath. This was the true face of the godling, his repulsive, depraved visage. Then the moment past and with great effort the boy marshaled his features back into the calm, heartless expression she was accustomed to.

"She may still be of use to us." The boy glanced at the warrior, his revulsion clear and then released his grip on Gian. "I will allow it."

Gian crawled to Myllian's side, holding back her sobs. She placed her hands above Myllian's chest and began her spell. Riandr moved away, not wanting to be in the healer's way, but she couldn't stop the sob of relief that escaped her when she heard Myllian gasp and watched her eye's flutter as the healer's spell began its work. She glanced at the boy only to find him staring at her, his expression once again inscrutable. He knew now, knew that they would not listen to him. She was in charge. It was information she would have rather kept from him, but Myllian lay dying. Having her whole again was more important than having the upper hand. He was yet unaware that she knew the secret of the Gate Keepers, of how much he needed her and her brother, of the Chimer and of their plan to trap him here. It wasn't much, but Riandr could only hope, it was enough.


	25. Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Four

It felt like an eternity passed before Myllian opened her eyes. Gian, using most of the strength she had gathered from Fil's aid, sank to the floor as exhausted as Fil had been. Drenn and Fil had recovered sufficiently to lean up on their elbows, the look in their eyes expressing their desperate hope for the warrior. Riandr took Myllian's hand in hers, trying to suppress her tears.

"How are you feeling, my friend?" Riandr kept her tone light.

Myllian stared at Riandr for a moment, her eyes lit by some unknown source. She tried to speak but found her throat too hoarse for speech. Lifting her hand she pulled Riandr to her. Whispering in her friend's ear, her voice filled with awe she said, "I was there, Ri. I was on the path. The colors of the sky, so vivid so clear! The stone images of my ancestors soared to the sky, guiding me home… to Sovngarde."

Riandr stared at her friend, speechless. Myllian swallowed and then continued her voice gaining in strength, "But something was wrong… a dark mist filled the valley below me, blocking my way. Fear gripped my heart. _Fear_, Ri! Then suddenly a soldier stood before me, he spoke of the souls of the worthy being devoured… by Alduin! He was using them to live!" She gripped Riandr's hand even more tightly. "This cannot be! The worthy can't be destroyed so close to those honored halls! They should not be used as sustenance for the World Eater! I must… I must stop him!"

Riandr gripped tightly to her friend, stunned. Had they lost her? Had Myllian died and traveled to Sovngarde? Or had she dreamt it all? In the throes of pain and loss of blood, had her mind only played out a much prayed for destiny? But why then had Alduin made an appearance? Hardly something Myllian would want, the World Eater destroying those hallowed halls.

Riandr squeezed her friend tighter, the thought of losing her, even for the span of a breath, breaking her heart. She did not know what had happened, but what she did know was a battle with the fabled Alduin, World Eater would have to wait for another day. Today all their thoughts, all their effort needed to be on trapping the boy and taking the shard. "I promise you, my friend," she whispered to Myllian. "If it is within my power to aid you in your quest, I will. But for now we must focus on the task at hand." She glanced at the godling, noting his mocking stare and whispered to her friend, "Can you sit?"

Myllian nodded and with a slight groan forced herself to rise. With a start she finally noticed the blood on her dragon armor and the large hole in the center of it. With a gloved hand she traced the hole, its meaning finally becoming clear. She turned to Gian who lay prone on the stone floor. The healer's breathing was shallow, but steady and the smiled she offered the warrior was filled with warmth.

With great care Myllian reached for the healer's hand, holding it gently in her own. The girl's hand was small and delicate and felt as weightless as air in Myllian's grip. "Thank you, Gian," Myllian said quietly, her tone reverent. Riandr thought she saw the girl blush in response.

Fil stood and shakily moved to Gian's side. Dropping to his knees, he lifted the girl's head and placed it on his lap. In his hand he held a potion of healing and as he tried to offer the drink to her she shook her head. With a smile on her lips she pulled him close to her and whispered, "Not yet." Fil was about to protest when he saw her gesturing toward her sac.

Without glancing at the boy he made it appear as if he was pouring the potion into the girl's open mouth, but instead placed the vial inside her sac, unseen. His mind raced with questions as to why she should not want to be healed. Why she should want to stay weak as a day old sheep? Then a thought rose above the others. Could her weakness somehow weaken the boy? But how? The image of her, strained and near death when they first saw her here, floated before him. And then, the boy. Strong, healthy… and yet.

Images of the godling danced across his eyes. In Xarthias holding her hand, touching her… then when they separated, he took her and her alone, keeping her trapped at his side. Vol'vahlok again, holding her hand, gripping her hand…what was he missing? Was the boy… using her? Draining her?

Fil's head shot up as he suddenly realized what the boy was doing. He was devouring her! Like a Vampire drains it victims of blood to sustain itself he was pulling from Gian her strength and stamina, to prolong his own life at the cost of hers! Gods the pain she must have endured these past weeks! His eyes clearly conveyed his horror because Gian suddenly gripped his hand with a ferocity he had not thought her capable of.

Barely, almost imperceptibly she shook her head, her eyes begging him not to reveal to the boy what he knew. His eyes narrowed. It went against his very nature to leave her so helpless; however he would respect her wishes.

Instead he offered her his hand and helped her to her feet. As she stood he could feel her entire body cringe as the boy said, his voice thick with sarcasm, "Are we all better now?"

Riandr glanced at Drenn who stood near her, steady on his feet. He nodded in answer to her unspoken question. He was up, but he also knew he had little strength to fight. If he could keep back, away from any fray and use his bow, he would be of some use. Mostly he was still much too weak from his wound for any battles that would call for his blade.

Myllian, having recovered the sword of Hjalti returned it to her hip. She held Dragon's Doom before her once again, twirling it with great impatience. If Riandr didn't know better she would have sworn the Redguard had not suffered an injury at all! With a grin Myllian said, "Let's finish this, boss."

Riandr glanced at Fil and he nodded. He had suffused Drenn and Myllian with as much healing potion as they had. The final vial was in Gian's sac. He had drunk the last of his magicka potions and so was now as fit as he would be without a month of rest. Reaching into his sac, he made sure the Embedded Runes he needed were in hands reach and then motioned toward the corridor. It was time, as Myllian so accurately put it, to finish this.

Riandr glanced at the boy and this time she could feel the healer's pain as her own as he took the girl's hand in his, and brutally squeezed it in payment for her actions. Riandr swallowed her fury and stepped into the tunnel.

A few feet into the dimly lit space the enormous body of the dead draugr lay across the floor. Its legs and arms curled at various angles and its throat was severed almost to the base of its skull. Myllian stepped over the body, reaching for the long, glowing spear that had rolled to the side. She glanced at the tip, still covered in her blood.

"Think I'll keep this," she said out loud to no one. "Nice little souvenir." Fil blanched a little at her casual tone.

The tunnel, dimly lit by random torches, meandered aimlessly for a while until it ended in a large wooden door. Riandr checked it for traps and then picked the lock. She pushed the door open to reveal a long straight corridor. The walls of the corridor were filled with carved images and once again Riandr was reminded of Xarthias. The carvings were much the same, Man and Mer bowing in supplication to two priests who hovered in the air over them.

Riandr, knowing now who these priests were, saw the pictures a little differently than before. Instead of subjugation and destruction she saw reverence and sacrifice. In the place of the expressionless masks that she thought hid the faces of power hungry priests, she saw the faces of the Chimer, offering themselves to the task of guardians of the shards, the Gate Keepers. Taking up this deadly task in order to save their world and worshipped as saviors by the throng below.

Many of those supplicants may well have been the spirits they had fought in the darkened room. Offering themselves as well, silent guardians, spending an eternity protecting the shard. It did not surprise her when the tunnel ended in a large wooden door that offered three stone rings, each ring covered in carvings and a center circle that held the engraving of a claw. She turned to the boy, waiting.

He gestured to Gian who was already searching her sac. This time she pulled out a claw that seemed more plant than animal. Dark roots twisted around a center of hardened oak. Each finger or what looked like fingers, jutted from the palm, the tendrils of vine growing thin and pointed, ending in vicious talons. Fil raised an eyebrow, quite certain the hand was from a spriggan. Riandr took the claw and examined the palm. There in the center were the three images she needed.

Tapping the rings in succession she rotated them until they were a mirror image of those on the palm of the claw. Placing the claw in the center circle she pushed. With a loud grating sound the rings spun quickly, twirling in circles until they came to an abrupt stop, each ring offering the image of a dragon. Then the door groaned and began to drop with a thud into the floor, a foot at a time. The hallway echoed with the sound.

When the door finally disappeared, Riandr stepped into the room. She was not surprised to find the chamber enormous. The room was again circular; its walls covered in upright sarcophagi, curved and disappeared behind the platform that filled the center of the chamber. Xarthias had been dimly lit, Fil's magelight producing the only light until they had stepped upon the top the platform. This chamber however, was awash in color and light. Rays of different hues streamed from the ceiling, dancing off the damp stone causing the chamber to glisten like a jewel.

Riandr glanced up, trying to see where the light originated but was unable to pierce its intensity. She turned to Fil and he shrugged. It was magic, definitely. But what wasn't in this place?

She moved further into the chamber, Fil by her side. Silent as they both were their footsteps still echoed in the open chamber. As she moved Riandr tried to formulate a plan. Once again a staircase lay before them, offering them a climb to the top of the platform. This staircase was not quite as long or the platform as high. However from her vantage point she could not see what was waiting for them at the top. She had to assume, if so much else was this similar, that it must be the sarcophagi of the Chimer. If that were true then it would make sense to climb the stairs and reach the twins. Allow the boy to recover the shard and then take it from him and escape through Fil's portal. 'So simple!' she thought and then almost burst into laughter.

She held her foot over the first of the steps, hesitating only a moment, and then set it firmly onto the stone. The chamber remained silent, the brilliant rays of color glistening on the stone. As she glanced up the stairs she paused a moment, her interest caught by the light as it danced before them. It appeared, from where she stood, that the rays were linear. Separate and distinct in color they flowed up the staircase like a rainbow. Purple, blue, green, yellow, orange, red rising up the staircase, each color holding court on a small platform, with only the red light reaching the apex.

She glanced at Fil, her concern evident. He stared at the lights, sharing her concern. Whatever they were, whatever threat they represented they were like nothing he had ever seen before and so had no known defense. The best he could do was prepare a few spells and be ready to wing it.

Knowing they had no other choice, she moved up the stairs her blades in her hands. As they reached the first platform she hesitated. The purple light blocked the stairs before them, cutting them off from their ascent.

"Let me," Fil offered as he stepped through the light. Riandr growled in anger that she quickly suppressed as he came to a halt on the other side of the barrier. He turned to her, a smile lighting up his face. "Seems all right."

"Mage…" Riandr asked, curious at his expression, then quickly followed her brother. Even through her armor of leather and dragon hide she could feel the light dance on her skin, the hair on her arms reacting, much like standing too close to one of Fil's lightning spells. As she stepped through the barrier she turned to Fil, a grin on her face.

She wasn't sure why but she suddenly felt happy! Content as if she had spent the day with friends, enjoying great food, good ale and stimulating conversation. Fil had the same look of relaxation and contentment on his face.

Myllian glanced at them curious, and then crossed the barrier. As she stepped through the light she had a sudden image of home cross her thoughts; her mother standing behind the counter at her store smiling at her, her brother's hand in hers begging her to play, her father's voice calling to her to help him with the forge. The breath she took filled her with a gentle warmth that flooded through her, offering strength and a clear mind.

Drenn followed Myllian, his eyes never leaving Riandr's face. He could tell from the way she held herself that something had happened as she crossed the barrier and he braced himself. As he stepped through the light tingled on his skin, pulsing through his blood. It felt as if the light flooded him, racing through him, searching for something. The sensation centered on his heart, then raced into his mind lighting the corners of his soul.

Then suddenly the image of his grandfather filled his thoughts. He was back at the archery range, his grandfather behind him, leaning over him adjusting his hold on a bow. He could smell the man, could hear his voice in his head as he gently admonished him for his tight grip. A rush of love he had not felt in a hundred years filled him; acceptance in a measure he had almost forgotten began to race through his veins filling him with a strength that washed away his fatigue and his pain. He stood straighter, healthier and more complete than he had been in a long time. He glanced at Fil and Riandr and they nodded in understanding.

Seeing that the light had not harmed any of the party, the boy stepped through the barrier, pulling Gian behind him. Riandr quickly hid her look of surprise as the boy doubled over, shrieking in pain. Gian stood beside him, her face alight with happiness. Fil had to stop himself from gasping at the change in the healer. She looked exactly as she had when he had met her! Dark shadows no longer haunted her eyes; her skin was no longer dried and withered. She looked as healthy and beautiful as she had that night at the fire, the effect of the boy's constant draining of her health gone. He was not surprised to see the girl angrily yank her wrist from the boy's grasp.

The boy still hunched, bent over at the waist. A low growl of pain escaped him and Riandr wondered just what had happened to the godling as he stepped through the light. Apparently it had not been the experience for him that it had been for them. Slowly he straightened, a look of hatred on his face.

Fil grinned at him and then asked, his tone mocking, "You all better now?"

The boy growled and then reached out to grab Gian's hand. Faster than thought Gian moved behind the others, out of the boy's reach. Without a word they stepped together, blocking the boy and preventing him from touching her.

"I think not, boy," Gian laughed. "I have had quite enough of your touch for one lifetime."

The boy shrieked and tried to lunge at her. In a flash the sword of Hjalti appeared at his throat. Myllian glanced at Riandr, hoping against hope that she might allow her to decapitate the boy. Instead Riandr calmly said, "Do you wish to fight us for the healer or continue up the stairs for your prize?"

With an inhuman growl the boy turned from them and continued up the stairs. Riandr and Fil moved directly behind him, Myllian and Drenn followed keeping Gian as far from the boy as possible. As they reached the top of the next set of stairs the boy halted before the barrier.

Luminous as the skies of Skyrim the dark blue barrier hung before them, tiny flickers of white light reminding them of stars. The boy gestured to Fil and without hesitation the mage stepped through it. The light tingled against his skin as before, but this time he did not feel a rush of contentment, but a rush of magicka. It tingled down his spine throbbing in his palms, and then he was through.

Riandr followed, nodding to Fil as she breached the barrier, her palms tingling. They turned to the boy. Drenn and Myllian still stood between him and Gian, so with a venomous look in her direction he stepped through the barrier. Again the boy dropped to his knees, this time a groan escaped his lips. Myllian grinned at the sound and then stepped through the light, Drenn quickly following her.

As the boy stood, slowly fighting against the pain, Gian stepped toward the light. As she did so the barrier flashed so brightly they had to look away. When they turned back they found the barrier had bent around Gian, surrounding her in a circle of radiance. The healer's face was lit by a beautiful grin.

The boy shrieked and threw himself against the barrier; it crackled against his skin, thrusting him backwards. He glared at her as he stood panting, three feet from her yet unable to touch her.

Gian smiled at her friends, her expression one of hope and encouragement. Then she glanced down at the boy. She raised her hand and very slowly waved to the boy, mouthing the words, "Bye, bye."

Myllian could not suppress the mocking laughter that burst from her.

Turning abruptly from them, the boy began to mount the steps, his hands gripped in tight fists by his side. Riandr and Fil followed, then Myllian and last Drenn. The Dark Elf's concern was growing. The godling practically glowed now, his power barely held in check by his human vessel. It had become obvious that the boy was dependent on Gian to maintain his body's integrity. He had been using the girl's healing abilities, her very essence to keep his flesh from bursting into flames; such was the intensity of his power.

At some point the girl must have become aware of what he was doing, most likely why she had refused Fil's offer of healing. She had to realize that the weaker she was, the less the boy was able to pull from her. The godling had not wished her dead yet, as he still had need of her, but her life, like theirs, would be forfeit as soon as he obtained the shard. Now she was completely cut off from him and his 'container' was beginning to disintegrate. Drenn wondered how much longer he could maintain his corporeal form and what would happen to them when it failed.

They reached the next platform and its barrier of dark green luminescence. This time Riandr stepped through first. Again she felt the tingling sensation rush over her and again she passed through unharmed. Fil followed, then the boy who again dropped to his knees in obvious pain. Myllian followed, unable to keep the look of satisfaction off her face at the boy's suffering.

As Drenn began to step through the barrier, it shimmered and flashed. When they could again see they found Drenn surrounded by the green light in the same form of protective cocoon as Gian. He tried to pass his hand through the barrier, but found it as impervious to him as it had been to the boy. Drenn did not appear quite as happy in his inflexible shell as Gian, but he waved to the others, knowing they had no other choice but to see how the chamber's protective spells played out.

As he watched them turn and continue up the stairs he had to admit, nothing in the chamber had as yet been aggressive or harmful. In fact, the first barrier had healed each of them and caused the boy to suffer and each barrier since had weakened the godling. He did not know how the spells chose but he had to believe it had something to do with the energy he felt flooding through him. It had searched his heart and mind and latched onto something it had found there. Whatever it was, it had found it in the others as well, healing each of them. Only the boy was found wanting and punished for it. He stared at their backs as they continued up the staircase, sending a prayer to Azura to keep his friends safe.

When they reached the next platform, Myllian stood at the edge waiting. She was not afraid of the yellow barrier, but was fairly certain that as she tried to pass through it, it would surround her in a cage exactly as it had done for Gian and Drenn. Being confined by the spell didn't frighten her, what bothered her was leaving Riandr and Fil alone with the boy. It tore at her heart to abandon her friends. Hjalti's sword still screamed at her to end the boy's life, but she was able to resist the temptation, her faith in her friend absolute.

Riandr, having stepped through the barrier unharmed, gestured to her to come forward. Fil smiled at her, his grin reassuring. With a sigh of resignation she stepped through the barrier. It exploded in a brilliant flash and then settled around her, glittering like sunlight. From her luminous shell she waved to Riandr and Fil and then placed her hand on the hilt of her sword, glaring at the boy.

He turned his back to her and continued up the stairs. The sword shrieked its annoyance at her but she ignored it, focusing instead on the memory of that moment between dusk and dawn, letting its peace fill her.

Riandr and Fil followed the boy. She reached for her brother's hand, taking it in hers. As quickly as she could she used their language to tap an explanation against the palm of his hand. With each step she told him of the Chimer, the gate and the boy's need of them because they were twins. Fil kept his face a mask of calm as he absorbed her tale wondering briefly if the godling had used other twins to retrieve the different shards and if so, what had become of them? With a sick feeling he realized the godling had most likely rewarded their efforts with a torturous death.

Riandr tapped a final suggestion into his palm and he smiled in response. As the others were encased in barriers the boy could not pierce, she had suggested they make a run for it. Race up the last two flights of stairs and reach the platform ahead of the boy. It might only buy them a moment or two but it could mean the difference in obtaining the shard or failing.

With their hands still clasped, they braced themselves for a sprint. Then they reached the top of the platform and without hesitation the boy stepped through the glittering orange barrier. Like the others it burst into brilliant light, blinding them for a moment. When their eyes adjusted they found the boy standing in the center of the platform, surrounded by an orange radiance.

The godling's cage was considerably smaller than those of their friends and seemed to cause him great discomfort, a fact they noted with perverse pleasure as they crossed the platform and headed up the final staircase.

They moved slowly up the last set of stairs, no longer needing to sprint. Riandr dropped Fil's hand, letting her hands rest instead on the hilt of her blades. She wasn't sure what they would face. It was true that so far the chamber had done them no harm, but she had no intention of dropping her guard.

As they stepped on to the final platform they paused, staring for a moment at the blood red barrier of light. On the other side of the barrier stood two sarcophagi, made of gold, they glittered in the red light like twin beacons.

"I suppose the shard is in their safe keeping?" Fil asked, unable to take his eyes off the sarcophagi.

Riandr nodded. "I imagine so."

"What if the barrier closes around us and we cannot make it to the shard?"

"I don't believe it will," she replied.

Fil sighed and then grinned, his adventurous spirit winning its battle with his fear. "What do you say, sis? Let's see what happens." He held out his hand to her.

She stared at her brother, shaking her head unable to keep a smile from her face. "You are so much like father," she laughed, uncertain why such a strange thought popped into her head. She reached out and placing her hand in his, they stepped through the barrier together.

This time as they stepped into the barrier they did not emerge on the other side. Instead the red light surrounded them, enveloping them. At first it tingled on their skin, tickling like a lover's caress, then it began to burn ever so slightly, sinking into their flesh, coursing through their veins like fire.

Riandr reached out and took Fil's other hand in hers. They stood, facing each other as the fire burnt through them, scorching their hair, their skin. Each breath became an agony as their lungs filled with flame instead of air. It slowly dawned on her that if she let go of Fil's hands, and stepped from the barrier, she would be free. The pain would subside and she would escape this torment. A part of her mind screamed at her to run, free herself and leave Fil to his fate. Her heart laughed at the thought, knowing she would sooner throw Fil from harm's way and burn to death than allow him to suffer a moment of agony.

Fil stood across from his sister, reading every thought as it crossed her mind, knowing the same thoughts and feelings filled him. They stood unmoving, both willing to die, neither willing to abandon the other. With a violent explosion the red barrier dispersed and they slumped to the ground, barely breathing.

Riandr had fallen facing her brother and he her. Her right hand still clung to his left and she tried to squeeze it reassuringly. Fil tried to grin, but found he could not move the muscles in his face. He tried to breathe, but found his lungs not working either. As his vision began to blur he hoped his eyes at least had told his sister how much he loved her.

Riandr thought it must be her failing vision that caused her to see a black mist surrounding Fil. She would have sworn she saw it hover over him for a moment as if waiting and then dive into his chest. She wanted to scream at the mist, tell it to back away from her brother, but her vision was growing blurry and she was having trouble concentrating.

Then quite suddenly, she was in a meadow. A warm summer sun shone down on her as she sat surrounded by flowers of all colors that swayed in a gentle breeze. She heard a blue bird singing in the woods near her and her heart was filled with the beauty of the day. With a laugh she rose, and stretched in the warm sun. She stepped forward, picking her way among the mountain flowers and reveling in the feel of the warm earth on her bare feet. Reaching out she plucked a bloom from its stem, and breathed deeply of its sweet fragrance.

She paused for a moment, glancing around her, suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling she had lost something. Without knowing why she began searching the ground around her. What could she possibly be missing on such a splendid day? Had she misplaced something? Dropped a book perhaps? A flask of wine? Something was wrong she could feel it.

The meadow began to fall away from her, dropping into a valley. Tossing the bloom from her, she raced down the side of the hill, stumbling as she went. Where was she? Why was she here? Where was brother? She should be with her brother, he needed her! She was running now, the ground speeding away beneath her feet. She had to find Fil! Fil was in danger, she was certain of that now… he needed her!

She sped along racing across the valley floor, heading towards a distant house. He might be there. Inside the house. Waiting for her. Or she could get help. Borrow a horse, find her brother. Her heart was pounding as she realized the house was still quite a distance away. On she ran, her breath coming in short gasps. With a sudden rush of air, she was half way there.

She raced on and suddenly she was there, leaping across the distance as if it were nothing. As she reached for the door handle the house burst into flame, burning her. Flames filled her lungs, scorched her skin. She tried to scream but found she did not have the breath. Then the house began to grow, rising in the center and flattening on the sides, it now looked more like a portal than a home.

The edges of the portal glowed as red and hot as coals and in the center, flames blazed. Flickering along the portals edges and shooting from its center, the fire almost beckoned to her to enter, tempting her to cross the plane and dance among the flames. She stood before the gate, mesmerized by the flickering light, her foot rising of its own accord moving toward the doorway.

Then she heard him call to her, heard her brother scream her name. She stepped back from the portal and raised her face to the sky and with all her heart screamed, "_Fil_!"

Her eyes flew open. She lay on the floor of the platform, facing her brother. He stared at her with a face more familiar to her than her own and yet somehow different. With a smile he drew himself up onto his elbow and said to her, "Sister."

Riandr heard the word, understood what he meant but also shivered at the sound. The voice was both Fil's and not Fil's. The face was both Fil's and not his. How could he be two men at once?

An image of the Chimer woman came to her mind and she realized with a start that it was a similar face that covered her brother's. Like a mask that shimmered as he moved, both solid and transparent, Fil's visage held both his own features and that of the Chimer. 'How can this be possible?' Riandr thought. Then a voice spoke to her, from inside her and all around her it echoed. Its tone was calm and reassuring, but Riandr was instantly alarmed.

"Child. Do not be afraid. My brother and I have joined with you, to add our strengths to your own. The demon you battle is both powerful and cunning. We have fought him time and time again. Each battle has ended in a stalemate. Each time we have locked him away from the world, in a prison we hope is unbreakable. However, each time he has escaped." She swore the woman sighed in her mind.

"But why are we joined?" Riandr spoke without speaking. She tried but found she could not control her lips, her arms, any part of herself. So she thought the words in her mind, picturing herself standing across from the image of the Chimer woman.

Her inability to control her own body infuriated Riandr, but her true concern was for her brother's safety. As she focused again on Fil she wasn't surprised to find him grinning like a fool. He was thrilled at the merging, seeing it as another great adventure.

"He is in good hands, child. My brother is one of the greatest mages that has ever lived."

Fil jumped to his feet. He stretched his arms over his head, taking a deep breath and letting it out with a shout of joy. "Gods it feels good to breathe again!" Fil shouted in a voice that was his and yet not his.

He turned to Riandr and reached out his hand to her. She felt her hand move and watched it be placed in his and then he pulled her to her feet. "Sister." The man that was more than Fil stared into her eyes and then pulled her to him, and wrapped his arms around her almost crushing her in his embrace.

"Brother!" She felt herself form the word, heard a voice that was hers and yet not hers. She realized with a start that she must appear to Fil exactly as he appeared to her. Riandr and yet not Riandr.

"How I have missed the sight of you!" Fil stepped back and held her at arm's length. "You are as beautiful as the night sky, sister."

The woman laughed with Riandr's voice. "And you are as beautiful as the dawn, brother. Oh," the woman used her hands to reach into her pocket and pull out the medallions, "look what she took from my room! Perfect is it not! Here you are, brother. We shall not head into battle without mother's gifts."

Fil watched his hand reach for the necklace of the sun, mesmerized as without his consent his hands pulled the band over his head, settling the emblem on his chest. He watched as Riandr did the same. The sharing of his body with another was fascinating, each movement his own and yet not. He would have loved to share this amazement with his sister, but he knew Riandr. He knew that, no matter how much she may on some level understand that they needed the Chimer's help, she was also seething with anger at having to share something as personal as her body with a complete stranger.

He tried to grin at her, let her know that for his part he was at ease with the entire intriguing experience. The Chimer it seemed wanted the same for Riandr, so he added his grin to Fil's.

Riandr recognized the effort both her brother and the Elf had put into the act. However the result was a little unsettling and did not calm her fears in the slightest. "So what is the plan, sister?"

"Your spells worked perfectly, brother! Now we must take the shard from its resting place. It is no longer safe there. Then we must hold the demon until the others can escape with the shard."

"That is what I thought. I was… oh wait! The mage is showing me something. By the gods this would be easier if we could simply share their minds as well as their bodies!" the Chimer grumbled. He paused a moment, as if listening to a distant sound, then his eyes grew bright. "He has created a spell, a portal! Well done, mage! This man is quite intelligent, sister. The demon chose well." Inside his own mind Fil grinned at the compliment. "We can cast the spell and allow the others to leave through it, taking the shard with them. All we need do is detain the demon."

"Perfect," the woman replied in Riandr's voice. A thought began to tickle at the back of Riandr's mind. What had the Chimer meant… the others? The woman's thoughts were closed off from her, each of them it seemed were separate, distinct inside Riandr's body. She could not hear her thoughts, know her intentions or feel her emotions. They were one and yet still two.

"You must reach for the shard, brother, with your right hand. I will hold your left as we battle. Won't the Underking be surprised?" The smile that covered her face was filled with loathing.

Decorative edging ran around the lid of the gold coffin and as Fil's fingers wrapped around a piece of the metal and yanked it free, the room was filled with a brilliant light. Each of the barriers burst apart in a blaze, releasing its occupants. When the light dissipated, they saw the demon boy standing before them, his eyes blazing in anger.

"You thought to outwit me? You fools! I am a _god_!"

The Chimer inside Fil shrugged with Fil's shoulders. "You are no more than a shadow of what you once were. A slice of the god that was. You are a petty demon, nothing more."

The boy's laughter was filled with derision. "You know nothing, Elf," he spat the term like acid from his tongue. "Your pointless machinations throughout the millennium have accomplished nothing! I am no more and no less than I once was and always have been."

Riandr's laughter was mocking. "From here you appear quite diminished in size, Wulfharth. A mere sliver of the god you once were. Perhaps you need a glance at your own reflection? Do you have a mirror, brother?"

"Ah alas! No, sister." Fil shook his head, his tone similarly mocking. "Though I must agree with you, the Underking is quite a bit smaller than he was at our last meeting."

The boy began to glow, his skin barely keeping his power in check. "I am through with your insolence! I will flay your skin from your bones! You will beg for mercy before I am finished with you!" As if in response to his threats the lids to the sarcophagi that lined the walls of the chamber burst open, smashing on the ground below.

Gian, Drenn and Myllian had raced to the top of the platform as soon as their barrier's burst. The sight of Riandr and Fil floating a foot above the floor, chatting with the boy in voice's that were theirs and not their own, stopped them in their tracks. As the lids shattered on the stone floor they were startled from their reverie.

Myllian glanced down the stairs at the horde of undead that began to mount the steps. "What's going on, Drenn?" She prayed to Talos that the Elf had the answer.

"I believe," Drenn whispered, "that the Gate Keepers have taken possession of Riandr and Fil."

"The Gate Keepers?" Myllian asked, exasperated. "Who in Talos' name are they?"

"Guardians of the shard. Keepers of the Gate." Drenn stared at the faces of the Elves as they floated over the faces of his friends.

"The good guys then?"

"Yes." As he watched the Chimer taunt the godling with Fil's voice he thought, 'By Azura, I hope so.'

"Well that's good news because we have some draugr trying to bother our friends." Myllian twirled Dragon's Doom, grinning. "Stay back, Gian, give us room to work."

With a laugh Gian flicked her wrists, light blue and dark red spells filling her palms. "I'll try not to show you up too badly, warrior." With that she shot her spells forward. As they hit the draugr the spells exploded, flinging the undead into the air and blasting them apart.

Myllian grinned at the healer, her respect for the girl increasing immensely. "You're on!" With her warrior cry echoing off the stone ceiling she raced down the stairs swinging Dragon's Doom in a deadly arc.

Drenn glanced once more at Riandr, fascinated and horrified at the double visage. Then he turned to the problem at hand, notched an arrow and sent it flying into a draugr's skull. It burst into flames and the undead tumbled from the staircase to the stone floor below. He repeated the act again and again, all the while his thoughts on Riandr and Fil.

The woman's tone was annoyed. "You know we cannot let you complete the gate. Why do you persist?"

"It is my _vengeance_!" the godling screamed. "They will pay with blood! All of you will die! I will build this portal to Oblivion in the Tribunal's home! I will destroy Resdayn and all Chimer! Vivec will _pay_ for his treachery!" With that the godling raised his hand, sending a stream of flames at the Chimer.

The woman glanced at her brother and raised her hand, erecting a wall of solid light, preventing the flames from reaching them. "You know Resdayn is no more, Underking. It was destroyed with the betrayal at Red Mountain. Why do you persist in this madness?"

"_No_!" the Underking twitched as he spoke, increasing the volume and intensity of his spell. "It is not enough! Not enough! They must pay, they must all pay!"

"How much more can our people pay, once-god?" the Chimer in Fil's body cried, his voice filled with anguish. "Our land is destroyed, covered in soot and ash. Cursed by Azura herself our people are stained, our beauty lost, we are marked by the foul deeds wrought by the Tribunal. An entire race altered by the arrogance of three individuals. How much more must our people suffer?"

"An eternity of pain! That is how much! I will build the Dwemer's gate and all of Oblivion will flood Resdayn and carry out my vengeance! You will _die_! Every member of your race! Dead, ground into the very rock you live upon!" The godling offered them a twisted grin, his eye's glowing with pain and insanity. "I cannot extract vengeance from the cowardly Dwemer, but I can from you! Each death a glorious song in my heart!"

"And Skyrim?" the Elven woman spoke softly, her tone calm but reproachful, the shield of light she wielded never faltering. "You will sacrifice your Nords to enact your vengeance?"

The boy who was once Wulfharth, the Scion of Shor, man become god, glared at the woman his spell wavering for a moment. "I would _not_!"

Riandr's head slowly shook; her smile was filled with sadness. "Oh but you will, Wulfharth. The denizens of Oblivion will not stay upon our rock. When they have finished with our people, they will continue to pour from the gate. Hungry, eager for violence and blood they will spread from Vvardenfell and Morrowind, crossing land and sea to ravage Argonia, Cyrodiil and Skyrim."

"No…" the boy-god whispered, his expression clearly showing his horror at the image she painted. His spell faltered again, the flames weakening.

"Yes. You know how they are. They will destroy the land, tree by tree, bird by bird, Mer and Man alike. Your Nords, those who loved you and called you, Ysmir the Grey Wind, the children of your beloved Shor; will fall. Their deaths, their annihilation will be on your head, Underking."

The godling stumbled back, uncertain. Then he glared at them, fury in his eyes. "_No_! You trick me with your Elven tongue! You lie! Like Vivec and Almalexia before you, you lie! Your entire race _lies_!" This time the flames poured from both his hands, surrounding the Elves in its deadly embrace.

The Chimer woman once again shook her head sadly. She kept up the impenetrable wall of light, but beads of sweat began to form on Riandr's forehead. "I do not. You know the truth of it. But in your passion for vengeance you have chosen to ignore the cries of your heart! How can you continue knowing you will destroy the very people you love? The very people who made you a god?"

With a strangled cry the godling dropped to his knees, halting his spell, covering his eyes with his hands. "Betrayal! Betrayal! I cannot stop! Vengeance must be had! Honor demands it! But my people… my Nords… my beloved home… Shor… forgive me." Then the godling, who was now more a memory of the once-god Wulfharth than reality, began to sob.

Myllian swung her axe, knocking a group of draugr off the stairs. She turned to Drenn who stood a few stairs above her, his face a mask of shock and disbelief. "They keep coming, Drenn. I know I've killed several hundred, Gian almost as many. And still they come!" She swung her axe again, lobbing off the head of three of the draugr nearest her, knocking the others off balance. They made no noise as they plummeted off the side. "I'm tiring, Elf. How about you?"

Drenn stood unmoving, his eyes glazed over. What had he just heard? The Dunmer… cursed? By the actions of the Tribunal? What in Azura's name had happened at Red Mountain?

"Drenn!" Myllian shouted.

He glanced at the warrior, straining to ignore what he had just heard and focus on the battle at hand. He held up an arrow. "Only three arrows remain."

After exploding a wave of draugr to pieces, Gian moved to Myllian's side, breathing deeply. "I'm afraid… I also tire. My magicka is almost spent. What do we do?"

"We leave," Drenn replied. "Gian, can you cast a ward along the base of this platform; prevent the draugr from climbing any further?"

Gian nodded, trying to catch her breath. "It will not last for long, only a few minutes at most."

"Long enough," Drenn replied.

Gian flicked both wrists, instantly her palms were filled with a light blue glow. She cast the spell onto the steps below her and a thick transparent wall appeared. The draugr stepped forward only to bounce off the wall. They stumbled backward into their brethren, knocking many of them off the staircase.

"What are we doing now?" Myllian asked as she took Gian's arm and helped her up the stairs after Drenn.

"We are getting our friends and we are leaving," Drenn's tone gave Myllian the distinct impression he expected to face resistance. As they reached the top of the stairs they were just in time to witness the boy dropping to his knees, sobbing. Drenn glanced at the Chimer who stood together, hand in hand. Their faces showed a mixture of exhaustion and victory. He motioned to the others to follow him as he quickly worked his way to Riandr's side. "We need to leave."

The Chimer/Riandr turned to him, her expression one of curiosity. It almost seemed to him as if she was seeing him for the first time. "Oh yes. The shard! You must take it and go. Quickly! Before the Underking closes off his heart again. Brother, the portal!"

They turned to the Chimer who grinned at them. "Ah yes!" he said in a voice that bore little resemblance to Fil's. "I have the runes right here!" With great aplomb he pulled the scroll from Fil's sac and read aloud the runes printed there.

There was a moment where Drenn would later swear, all sound ceased. Every creak, every groan, every clink of mail and metal, crunch of stone and drip of water stopped. There was utter silence, and then a deafening explosion. They ducked, each of them, the godling the only exception. When they lifted their heads a portal hung in the air above the sarcophagi. It was round, its edges blurry and ill defined. In the center was an image of a snow covered trail. The snow, covering the ground and the branches of a pine tree that stood near, seemed to sparkle in a midday sun.

Drenn thought for a moment it was the most lifelike painting he had ever seen. Then a gentle breeze blew through the opening into the tomb, carrying with it the ice cold touch of snow. The brilliance of Fil's spell kept them captivated for a moment and then the draugr let out a roar as Gian's ward fell and they were free to race forward.

"The shard!" Drenn cried as he hoisted Gian onto the sarcophagi, motioning to the portal.

"Here!" The Chimer handed the piece to Drenn. "Follow your plan. Drop it to the sea floor. It will be safe there."

Drenn nodded, shoving the shard into his sac. He motioned to the portal. "We must leave now." He could hear the draugr reaching the last of the lower platforms.

"So long and farewell to you," the Chimer offered him with a smile.

Myllian boosted Gian up to the lip of the portal. The healer gripped the edge and hauled herself up, turning to the warrior to offer her hand. Myllian turned back to Drenn and paused. The look on his face did not bode well. She glanced at her friend and then the Elves knowing in her heart that something was not quite right.

"It is time, ancestors. Release my friends," Drenn said purposefully.

The Chimer looked at him with Fil's eyes and without a hint of remorse said, "We will not. We have need of these bodies."

Drenn's eyes narrowed, the reason for the pit in his stomach finally making itself clear.

"That was not part of the plan, Keepers. You must release my friends."

The woman shook Riandr's head. "No. We must not. It has been too long since we have had physical form. It is a joy to once again breathe, to speak! To see my brother's face, to touch him." As she spoke she reached out and placed her hand on Fil's cheek. The male Chimer reached up and placed his hand on hers, grinning at her.

"No… _no_! This is not right!" Drenn shouted, his body shaking in anger and fear. "You did not ask them for this sacrifice! You did not give them the choice you had! You cannot take what is not yours!"

The Chimer who had possession of Fil shrugged. "We may do as we wish."

Drenn grabbed the woman and spun her to face him, digging his fingers into Riandr's armor. "You will release her! By the gods who do you think you are?"

Riandr's voice was filled with disdain as she said, "We are the Gate Keepers, child. The most gifted, most stunning of a race worshiped for their brilliance and beauty. We are the Chimer!"

Drenn stared at her, reeling from the woman's conceit. These were his people, his ancestors! How in the name of the gods could they justify this act? Would his people now? Were the Dunmer any different? His moments of arrogance over the past few weeks flooded his mind and he was suddenly sickened by his own conceit.

His grip around her arms tightened, his tone was filled with anger and self-loathing. "Is this all my people have ever been? Arrogance, selfishness, betrayal? You claim great beauty and wisdom, but your actions scream of your iniquity and hubris."

Riandr's eyes narrowed. "Be careful, child."

Drenn leaned toward the woman, his face a mere breath from hers. "You claim beauty, but your soul is black and corrupt. You would cheat the world of two extraordinary souls to resurrect a life that is already forfeit! I swear to you, we will not let you take that which is not yours!"

The Chimer woman offered him a mocking grin. "What has become of our race? Have you forgotten who you are? We are descendants of the Aldmeri! We are the Chimer! We are like gods to these mortals. This, for them, is an honor without compare!"

"No!" Myllian screamed. "You can't do that. They're people! They're my friends! You can't just… keep them!" Dragon's Doom was in her hand as she advanced on the Elves.

"What would you do, warrior? Kill your friends?" the woman spoke calmly though all could tell she was unnerved by the sight of Myllian's spinning axe. "We will continue to exist, however your friends will be dead! Is that a better fate for them?"

Myllian glanced at Drenn. They stared at each other for a moment, battling with each other, with themselves, their hearts breaking at the thought of what they must do. Then Drenn nodded and Myllian turned to glare at the woman. Her voice was filled with sadness as she calmly stated, "I know my friend. She would rather die, than live as a slave to the likes of you."

Riandr's eyes grew wide in surprise and for a moment the Chimer ceased to breathe.

From somewhere deep in the recesses of her mind, Riandr could hear the battle. Myllian's voice cut through the strange lethargy that filled her and she focused on it. They were with the boy… they had to stop the boy. But why was it so hard to concentrate? Myllian was angry… why was she angry? She was arguing, arguing about something… about her and Fil! Why? What was wrong? As if from a distant hilltop Myllian's voice echoed to her_. "You can't just… keep them!"_

Keep them? Riandr wondered. What did she mean by that? She tried to open her mouth, ask Myllian what she meant. Her mouth opened, but it was not her words or her voice that came tumbling out. "What will you do, warrior? Kill your friends?" Like a flash of lightning as it split the night sky shining light into the darkness, the clouds in her mind cleared and she knew exactly where she was and what the Chimer were planning on keeping. Her and Fil!

"No!" she screamed, the thought of her brother spending eternity trapped in this tomb horrifying her. "Not Fil! You cannot have him! _Release him_!" She again tried to move her mouth, her hand, anything that might force the Chimer woman to listen to her.

"We're not going to leave without them!" Myllian continued to scream at the Elves.

Drenn glanced at the platform's edge, not surprised to see the first of the draugr reaching it. "You will release her! Release them!"

"But they are guardians now, Keepers. It is their responsibility to stay." The man smiled at Drenn, but his smile was strained and no longer reached his eyes.

Myllian spun Dragon's Doom in her hands, her heart beating wildly. The draugr were coming, the Elves would not free her friends… they were out of time. She let out a low, painful growl. She would not leave Riandr to live as a slave or die slowly, torn to shreds by the loathsome undead. Drenn glanced at her and saw the purpose in her eyes; his reflected his sorrow and conviction.

"You would not! You will not! I forbid it!" the Elven woman screamed.

Drenn's tortured cry was lost in the growls of the draugr, as he pulled his hands from Riandr's arms, taking a step back. He glanced at Myllian, their shared sorrow almost overwhelming them. Then nodding to the warrior he turned back to Riandr and froze.

Myllian started her backswing, the blade singing as it cleaved the air. She wanted as much power in her arc as possible. One clean cut. She couldn't bare it if Riandr felt any pain.

"_Wait_!" Drenn leapt forward, throwing himself between Riandr and Myllian's blade, blocking her neck with his body.

Myllian pulled her arms up short, the energy she had built into her swing causing her arms to shake. "Gods, Drenn… why?!"

"_Look_!" He took Riandr's face in his hands and turned her toward the Redguard. Riandr stood unmoving, her eyes glazed, a look of surprise frozen there.

"What… what's happening?" Myllian stared at her friend.

"I think its Ri! I think she's... fighting!" Drenn cried. He turned just in time to see the Chimer who was Fil falter then freeze, the same look of shock on his face. His heart swelled with hope. They fought, Riandr and Fil, against the Chimer who would take their bodies for their own. It was a battle of will, of spirit and if he were a betting man he would bet every coin he had on the assassin and her brother.

"Ri? Can you hear me?" he yelled to her. "You need to fight! Fil needs you out here! I need you! I know you can do it, assassin. You're stronger than she is! Tougher! Show her what it means to be human, my love." He glanced at Myllian and then gestured to Fil. Myllian moved to the other sarcophagi and leaned toward Fil's ear.

"Fil!" she shouted. "I don't know if you can hear me but…" Myllian paused, not quite able to spout words of love and encouragement as Drenn had done. Then an emotion just as strong came to her. "Fil… this _dung_ eating Elf is trying to take over your body and _kill_ your _sister_! You're the only one who can stop him, mage! So get on with it and _kick his bloody arse_!"

"Uh… Myllian. We have company!" Gian stood and pointed to the wave of draugr who raced toward them. The undead had reached the platform and curling around the boy as if he did not exist, headed straight for their party.

Gian shot flames from her hands; Myllian jumped from the sarcophagi and standing in front of Riandr and Fil, began tearing into the draugr with her axe. Drenn shot the last of his arrows and then pulled his dagger from his belt and began stabbing at the advancing undead.

Inside her mind Riandr was completely unaware of what transpired around her. There was no sound and all she could see were sharp balls of light as they flew at her. The light was not harmful, it did not burn or cut, it was simply a distraction. The Chimer needed Riandr hazy and unable to concentration, to drift away into the dream state she had created for Riandr at the start of their joining. With a sudden clarity, Riandr knew that to lose her sense of self was too lose this battle and her life. And if she lost herself, what would become of her brother? With grim determination she fought to keep herself complete, intact. She used every ounce of strength she possessed to keep herself focused, to keep her mind her own.

Her boots, how they felt on her feet, warm and secure. Her cuirass, flickering red flames caressing her body. Her gloves, like a second skin on her hands. Her hood, covering her face, hiding her grin. Like an artist's rendering, she kept the thought of herself complete, in intricate detail.

The Chimer kept floating around her, circling her, thrusting balls of light and darkness at her in an attempt to distract her long enough that she would lose coherency. That she might forget who she was and drift apart. Beneath her hood Riandr smiled. She was neither a child nor a simpleton. She had spent her entire life in the fires of poverty and pain, to forge the woman she become. Made of iron and steel, ebony and dragon bone, she would not be crushed by the likes of an arrogant Chimer.

Riandr lifted her hand and envisioned a dagger there. Black and riddled with flames, Silence joined her. The blade almost shouted with joy as Riandr lifted her head and laughed. Her blue eyes glittered with anger and vengeance as she cried, "Come here, Elf! Let me show you what I do to those who threaten my brother!" Riandr was surprised to find she could hear the woman scream.

From the sound of Myllian's frantic cries Fil had to assume that the educational aspect of the joining had ended. Though he was not certain what was happening outside of his body, he was certain of one thing. Myllian felt his sister was in danger and that was motivation enough to end this. He stood within his mind, curious as the Chimer lobbed spells of flame and ice at him. He wondered if the Elf thought the spells might hurt him. Certainly the Chimer's frustrated howling suggested he did. But why? The flames looked as if they were made of paper, the ice of cloth. He watched the Elf as he flew in circles around him, his face contorted with rage.

'How very strange!' Fil thought. If Myllian's cries were correct, they were in a battle for Fil's body, winner take all and yet the Chimer did nothing but toss inert spells at him. The only conclusion Fil could draw from the Elf's exasperated cries was the Chimer had imagined this battle would go… differently. Understandably the Chimer had been trapped away for quite some time, guarding the shard. Perhaps humans weren't intimidating a few millennia ago?

'Even so, this is unacceptable!' Fil huffed, he felt more than a little annoyed at being underestimated so badly. 'I wonder if it's my boyish good looks,' he mused.

'Why won't you fade!' the Chimer screamed and raced at him. In the space of a thought Fil reached out and wrapped his fingers around the Chimer's throat.

'Because, you fool,' Fil derided the Elf, surprised at his ignorance, 'you threatened my sister.' With his words ringing in the Elf's mind, Fil began to squeeze.

Drenn cried out as he saw Riandr grow limp and start to slump to the floor. He reached out and caught her before her head hit the stone. Myllian reached for Fil, catching him only a moment after his head bounced off the floor. "Sorry," she murmured sheepishly as the mage groaned in pain.

Riandr's eyes fluttered opened to find Drenn staring down at her, his gaze desperately searching hers.

"Ri?" Drenn held his breath, praying to Azura that Riandr had won her freedom.

Riandr nodded, attempting a grin and then tried to raise her head, looking for her brother. Physically drained from her battle with the Chimer she found she could barely lift her chin. With a desperate look in her eye she turned to Drenn. As she opened her mouth to speak he put his finger on her lips and with tears in his eyes said, "Your brother is fine."

As Riandr started to grin her gaze fell to the medallion around her neck. It had begun to rise, hovering in the air. She had a second to glance toward Fil to see if his was doing the same before both medallions shot forth beams of light. Like rays of sunshine the golden light burst forth, covering them in its brilliance and warmth, quickly spreading out around them, surrounding the band in a luminescent dome. The light violently shoved the draugr from the platform, keeping the band and the godling trapped within. Drenn almost cried out in joy as a black mist rose first out of Riandr, then out of Fil, the forms cringing as they entered the golden dome. They hovered in the air for a moment appearing disoriented.

"_Hear me, Wulfharth. Underking. Demi-God. Beloved of the Nords_." They held their breath as a voice as soft as a morning songbird and as powerful as the dawn echoed around them.

From his position on the floor, the godling ceased his sobs and removing his hands from his eyes, stared at the top of the dome.

"_You would rebuild the accursed Dwemer Gate and destroy all of Nirn in your lust for vengeance_. _The Dwemer and Chimer betrayed us both, Son of Shore. The Dwemer, in their arrogance, punished themselves. However I have punished the Chimer, my once-faithful. I have marked them with my disappointment. They will forever be Dunmer. Betrayers and Betrayed. Let that be the end of it. Yet I am not without pity. I leave you these two. Arrogant, selfish and untouched by my curse I give them to you to torment for all eternity._"

The dark mists shivered in the light for a moment their non-corporeal forms convulsing in fear and desperation. Then as one they sped from the chamber, desperate to flee the godling. With a feral cry the boy-god that was Wulfharth, Ysmir the Grey Wind, beloved of Shor, stood and leapt from the platform, chasing after them.

They watched the three disappear, the thought of their eternal struggle almost arousing pity. Almost. Then in a whisper they heard, "_Well done, Champions. Now go. Take the shard; hide it well from those who would use it to destroy your world._"

With a crash, the dome of light exploded into a million pieces sending specs of light streaming throughout the chamber. It reminded Riandr of the night sky, littered with stars.

As the lights slowly faded, the floor beneath them began to tremble. It was gentle as first, but quickly grew in intensity, until the walls began to quiver, huge chunks of stone working loose from the ceiling, crashing to the floor.

'By the gods,' Drenn thought, 'does it never end?' He stood and lifting Riandr in his arms, gently tossed her up onto the sarcophagi. She tried to refuse his aid, attempting to stand, then collapsed, annoyed when her body would not respond to her commands. Laying there she growled softly in frustration, hating feeling so helpless.

Drenn glared at her as the tomb shook around them. "Stop the heroics, Ri. You're in no shape for it." Drenn turned to Myllian. "You have the mage?"

Myllian tried to toss Fil gently onto the top of the sarcophagi. His loud groan as he landed suggested to her that she failed. As the floor began to shake violently beneath their feet, she leapt up onto the lids and offered Drenn a hand. Gian waited for Myllian to lift her to the opening and then scurried up over the edge. She then grabbed Riandr's arms as Myllian lifted her, and pulled her over the threshold. Drenn jumped onto the edge of the opening and reached down offering to pull Fil up.

Myllian handed Drenn Fil's hands and then, tossing her weapons over the edge, grabbed the lip of the portal, pulling herself up. She turned to help Drenn pull the mage through only to find a draugr had leapt up onto the sarcophagi and clung to Fil's legs. Instinctively she growled at the undead, surprised when the draugr roared back.

From where they stood at the portal's edge they couldn't feel the room shake, but they could see the walls begin to buckle, could see the floor as it rumbled and quaked. They heard a terrible roar, then the base of the platform gave way and the air was filled with dust. It raced toward them, a billowing cloud of ash and dirt.

Myllian and Drenn clung to Fil, trying desperately to pull him into the portal. As the air cleared they could see the stairs and the sarcophagi had disappeared. But the draugr still held tightly to Fil's legs, his own swinging freely over empty space.

In a tight voice Fil murmured, "You can haul me up any time now friends; I think he's going to pull my legs off."

Myllian glared at the draugr and then handed the wrist she held to Drenn. She dropped to the edge of the portal and swinging her body over the side began kicking the undead in the head. She growled at the draugr, each word punctuated with her boot shoved forcefully into his face. "Let… Go… Of… My… Friend!" Her final kick snapped the draugr's head back, breaking its neck. The sound was music to Myllian's ears. As the draugr died again, his arms released their death grip on Fil's legs and he fell soundlessly into the darkness below.

Myllian stared at his falling corpse in wonder. She clung to the lip of the portal, could feel the cold stones of the path on her arms, and smell the crisp snow. And yet below her the darkness of the empty chamber, its floor now somewhere far below her, was quite real. She existed, in two places, simultaneously. Both very real and leagues apart. 'No wonder mages go mad,' Myllian thought distractedly.

Drenn grunted as he began to pull Fil up by himself.

"Hold it… wait for My," Fil mumbled.

Myllian glanced at the mage and then quickly climbed back into the portal and helped Drenn pull Fil the last few inches to safety. As his feet passed the lip of the gateway there was a loud crack. The portal quivered for a moment and then collapsed in on itself with a soft pop.

They lay there in the snow for a moment, everyone afraid to speak. Drenn had dropped to Riandr's side, his arm behind her, helping her to sit. Gian took Riandr's right hand and Fil's left and joined them, then cast a spell of healing that covered them both. Myllian had plopped to the ground next to Fil, grinning at him like a Khajiit with a secret.

Fil sheepishly returned her grin.

Her eyes narrowed, familiar now with his expressions. "What now, mage? What have you done?"

"Ah… well…" Fil was suddenly acutely aware that there were now two women who could read him like a book. "I'm just glad I came through the portal last, that's all."

Myllian's frown deepened. "Why, mage?" She was suddenly afraid of the answer.

"Well," Fil glanced at the sky, his feet, anywhere but at Myllian's face. "I sort of forgot to mention that… well… once I passed through the portal, it would… close. Due to the fact that I created the spell. Once I broke its boundaries it assumes I'm finished with it and it… disappears." As Myllian stared at him, he began to stammer, "I'm sorry, My! I simply forgot! I swear!"

"By the _gods_! You almost trapped me in that chamber… forever!" the warrior growled furiously.

"Well… to be honest," Fil babbled, "you wouldn't live forever. So that's a bit of an exaggeration. Plus the room was most likely caving in on itself, so I'd say you probably wouldn't have lasted more than a few hours. If that."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Myllian roared at him.

Riandr squeezed Fil's hand, grinning at Myllian. "Would it help if, to make amends, my brother promises to never forget to tell you vital information again and he will carry your gear for you for a month?"

"Deal." Myllian nodded, her anger abated.

"Hey! Wait! I didn't agree to that!" Fil turned to his sister. "You can't do that to me! You've seen what she carries. I won't last I tell you!"

"Oh hush, brother. Most of that stuff is yours anyway. Now thank the nice warrior for saving your life."

Fil tried to stay angry and failed. In his most contrite voice he said, "Thank you, nice warrior."

The others burst out laughing. As they glanced at each other, tears streaming down their cheeks, they let the stress of the past few weeks roll off them and melt into the snow. When they finally came to their senses, Myllian turned to Fil. "So, mage, where are we?"

Fil tried to control his hiccups. Extended laughter always gave them to him. "What do you… mean, My?"

"Where are we?" she asked again. "It was your spell, so where are we?"

Fil's face froze, the hiccups frightened from him. "I… I don't know."

Riandr turned to him. "What are you talking about? How do you not know?"

"Ri, remember what I told you? That all I had to do was have an image of the place I wanted to go to in my mind when I cast the spell and that would be where the portal opened?"

Riandr nodded. "Exactly."

"Oh by the gods…" Drenn murmured as he realized what Fil was trying to say.

"Spit it out, mage!" Myllian growled, frustrated.

"Ri…" Fil paused, the truth terrifying him. "_I_ didn't cast the spell."

Riandr stared at him, their time on the platform playing itself out again in her mind. With a groan she suddenly understood, the Chimer had had possession of Fil when the spell was cast! It was the _Chimer_ who had pictured a place. They had been sent to whatever place _he_ had imagined. She glanced around them, hoping to recognize a rock or tree or bush. To her horror, nothing seemed familiar, nothing shouted of home.

Myllian watched their faces as she tried desperately to catch up to where they were. Then with a suddenness that was almost sickening she remembered the Chimer casting the spell. She remembered the portal opening and the Elf turning to them, wishing them well. With an ache in her stomach and her head throbbing, she murmured aloud what was on all their minds.

"Aaahhh… dung."

* * *

Thank you for joining our friends on their journey.


End file.
